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Author of "To Greenland and the Pole", '"Twixt School and College" 
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Chap. Page 

I. Reverie and Romance, 9 

II. Written on the Field of Battle, 20 

III. Fort Sumter palls, 28 

IV. A Brave but Ragged Regiment, 37 

V. The Battle of Bull Run, 47 

VI. Osmond determines to make for America, .... 56 

VII. Afloat on the Wide Atlantic, 66 

VIII. Mutiny on Board the Blockade-runner, .... 78 

IX. Chased by a Northern Cruiser, 91 

X. The Fight with the "Delaware", 101 


I. On the Long March Northward, 115 

II. Fighting the Forest Fire, 126 

III. At the Old Plantation, 138 

IV. The Federal Fleet and the Forts, 150 

V. War by Sea and Land, 164 

VI. The Story of the "Merrimao", 174 

VII. Harry in the Enemy's Camp, 187 

VIII. A Tussle with Road-agents, 199 

IX. The Battle of Malvern Hill, 213 

X. The Great Struggle on the Potomac, 228 

XI. The Death of Captain William Bloodwoeth, . . 239 





Chap. Page 

I. Lincoln Pkoclaims Freedom to the Slaves, . . . 245 

II. Where was Fighting Joe? 256 

III. A Tragedy in Five Acts 265 

IV. Wild Life at Sea — The "Alabama", 276 

Y. A Dangerous Undertaking, 285 

YI. Condemned to Die, 295 

YII. At the Old Plantation once again, 306 

YIII. Lee's Last Stand at Richmond, 317 

IX. For Plunder and Revenge, 328 

X. When the Cruel War was Over, 343 



General Stonewall Jackson, Frontis. 233 

Osmond gives Eva the first News op the War, ... 19 

"I re-baptize this good ship the Mosquito" said Lucy, 
AND dashed the Bottle ON Deck, 75 

"You must die at daybreak," said Captain Stuart; 
"take him away, corporal," 121 

"On and on they dash at a break-neck gallop through 
the forest fire," 137 

"Suddenly Harry, who was riding on ahead, cried 

'Halt!'" 201 

Captain Trouville turns upon Harry, and reads him a 
Lesson, 288 

The victorious Federals are welcomed by the AYomen 
OP Richmond, . 327 

Map to illustrate the Civil War in America, 1861-65. ... 29 






HERE is a thread of romance in the warp or 
weft of nearly every boy's life. I should 
not care to have a boy as a companion in 
my summer rambles who did not have that blue vein 
of " romauticness " winding and curving through all 
his nature, like the blue line that runs through the 
best ship's canvas. 

Well, I may be wrong, but it has long been my 
opinion that there can be no true bravery without a 
little dash of poetry, just to fire the blood. Even 
savages, in every land in which it has been my lot 
and luck to travel or sojourn — notably, perhaps, the 
Indians of the western wilds of America — possess 


that quality, and this it is which gives dash and elan 
to their battle charges, and lends a kind of music to 
their voices as, spear in hand, they rush yelling on to 
meet their enemies. 

Well, if this romance be not present in a boy's life 
when he is quite young, it will not develop as he gets 
older, and he will never become a true soldier, that is, 
a leader of men. There is another species of courage 
which I have found to be very common among the 
tribes in Eastern Africa, a courage that is born of a 
kind of dreamy inditference to life. They fight as fights 
the bull or the walrus, with a sort of stern stolidity 
that often leads to victory from its very doggedness. 

This kind of pluck is not unknown among the rank 
and file of the British army, especially the English 
portion of it; the Celtic divisions, as represented by 
the Irish and Highland Scottish, having probably more 
poetical fervour and dash, though, as records can prove, 
not less staying power. But it is the very composite 
character of our army which, in my opinion, renders 
it the best that ever faced a foe or fixed a bayonet. 
It is an army, too, that has its traditions, and its long 
and glorious history to cheer it on and steel its heart 
for action; an army that, well-generalled and properly 
handled by its officers, is to all intents and purposes 

But now my hero comes upon the boards, and you 



will find him no exception to the general rule, for 
Osmond did possess romance, and a spice of poetry too. 
Mind you this, though, my hero's romance did not lead 
him to do anything very ridiculous. He never had 
any hankering after knight-errantry. It never oc- 
curred to him to sally forth from his father's house or 
hall for the purpose of rescuing distressed damsels 
from the power of their would-be captors, nor to live 
all alone, as I knew a boy do once, for a whole week 
in a ruined castle. Nor did Osmond's poetry find a 
safety-valve in deluging the table of unhaj)py editors 
with silly and unwholesome verses. No, his poetry 
and romance took quite another turn, and led him to 
lonsr for travel and adventure. 

You will not think this very strange when I tell 
you where he lived. Imagine to yourself, then, a 
bonnie glen or valley in the south-west of Yorkshire, 
with a bi'awling rivulet winding down through the 
centre of it, spanned here and there with strong old- 
fashioned Gothic bridges. Fields at each side sur- 
rounded with lordly trees, the black-budded ash, the 
sturdy oak, the broad-leaved sycamore, and the noble 
horse-chestnut whose splendid flowers of pink and 
white seemed to turn all the bees crazy in the merry 
month of May. Imagine these fields rising up and up, 
higher and higher, as they get further away from the 
stream till they end in a ridge of wooded hills. 


This sounds romantic, does it not? So does the 
mention of sturdy old English mansions with chimneys 
peeping through the trees, that may be seen here and 
there on the brow of the glen. But low down, and 
near to the middle of the valley, stands a long row of 
brick houses. Well, they do not look so bad at a dis- 
tance, and are quite in keeping with the scenery, but 
if you enter and walk through this village, romance 
and poetry take to themselves wings and fly away. 
The buildings, it is true, are strong and substantial, 
but the street itself is rutty and black, the pavements 
are sadly out of repair, and at every doorway or in 
the gutters play bare-legged, naked-armed children, 
whose faces do not appear to have been washed nor 
their "tousled" hair combed for a month of Bank 
holidays. But here and there in this long street you 
cannot help noticing "palaces" about which the less 
we say the better, for they are devoted to the worship 
of Bacchus, and the men and women around their 
corner doors are far indeed from wholesome -look- 

Supposing the season to be summer, we should 
naturally expect to find the trees all smiling and 
green in the glad sunshine, and many a lusty trout 
leaping up here and there in the streamlet. Well, 
time was when such a state of aflairs really existed, 
but it is not now, because for almost every mansion 


there is a mill, and the smoke from the chimneys 
of these covers all the landscape with a sooty, black 
veil, while their effluxions poison the once clear stream 
so that ne'er a trout or minnow can live therein. So 
the trees, instead of being green and fresh, are grimy 
and almost brown, and even the grass itself looks 
dry and harsh. 

All these mills may certainly serve to represent a 
portion of the wealth and riches of old England. I 
grant you they do, but nevertheless it is not in such 
a country as this that the goddess Poesy loves to 

Yet it was here where our hero Osmond lived at 
the time our story opens. Up yonder at the Mir- 
fields he had spent most of his life, except just 
latterly when the greater portion of the year had 
been devoted to study in the classic old halls of 

Was it any wonder, I ask you, that young Osmond, 
now in his eighteenth year, and reared among such 
surroundinpfs, lono-ed at times for travel and wild ad- 
venture? These longings were fed by the books he 
read in his father's well-stored library. 

Mirfields stood (and still stands) well up among the 
rolling woods, higher up indeed than any other house 
in the valley, and seated at one of the broad windows 
of the library that ovei'looked all the wide glen, 


Osmond oftentimes of a summer evening, while the 
sun sank livid or red through the western haze, would 
indulge in reveries or dreams that were very far from 
being unpleasant. 

Sometimes his little sister Eva would steal in and 
seat herself quietly on a cushion at his feet. On the 
thick, old-fashioned carpet her footsteps would not be 
heard, and her presence for a time, at all events, ap- 
peared to be scarcely noticed by her brother. 

Far, far beyond the Yorkshire hills — thus at times 
did Osmond's reverie run — there were oceans and 
seas on which his gaze had never yet alighted, sleep- 
ing blue and peaceful under cloudless skies, or, when 
wild winds blew, raised into billows, foam-topped and 
furious, and raced before the tempest's blast. Yet 
loud though the stormy winds might roar, the breath 
of the ocean was ever sweet and pure, so that the 
sea-birds screamed with delight as they were caught 
up and whirled from wave to wave. 

And the countries beyond the seas, what delightful 
possibilities did they not present to this romantic 

The time at which my story begins is after the 
quelling of the terrible mutiny in India, and in the 
autumn of the year 1861. In those days there were 
fewer writers of boys' books than there are now; but 
on his father's shelves, nevertheless, Osmond found 


many a story of travel and adventure that delighted 
and thrilled him, with the authors of which he went 
wandering away to far-off lands. He visited regions 
of lakes and streams and primeval forests in the very 
centre of Africa, and many an escapade he had among 
the dark-skinned and implacable savages, while lions 
not a few fell before the fire of his rifle by woodland 
and stream. In imagination he chased the fleet girafle 
and stalked the lordly elephant through the dells and 
dingles of sunny Africa. He even engaged in deadly 
struggles with terrible pythons, and had his frail 
canoe upset by a huge ungainly hippopotamus in a 
river pool that was literally alive with horrid croco- 

0, a fine thing is a good imagination, I can assure 
you, reader! And Osmond could enjoy all the fun of 
a fight with Patagonian savages or with the cannibal 
canoe Indians of Tierra del Fuego without going a 
step beyond his father's library. 

Yet with all his longing to see life — real life — and 
partake of wild adventure in foreign lands, Osmond 
was not a very tall nor even a very resolute lad to 
look at. For my own part I rather like to have tall 
and rather handsome heroes in all my stories — men, 
for instance, like Roualeyn, Gordon Gumming, the lion 
hunter, or stalwart Donald Dinnie, the athlete. I like 
such men, and yet I cannot forget that very many 


of the world's greatest generals and conquerors have 
been men of medium stature. Said the poet: — 

" Were I as tall as reach the pole, 
Or grasp the ocean with my span, 
I must be measured by my soul; 

The mind's the standard of the man." 

No, Osmond was barely of medium height, but he had 
a clear complexion of his own, dark blue Yorkshire 
eyes, and a fearless open and intellectual countenance. 

Perhaps Osmond was his mother's favourite, and he 
spent much of his time in her society. Dick, on the 
other hand, who was older than Osmond, and his only 
brother, just as little Eva was his only sister, was 
always with his father in mine or mill, at church or 
market, or in the smithy itself. Two " buirdly " 
chiels they were, and " Yorkshire " all over. People 
who looked after them, as they strode homewards 
together of an evening, used to say that they looked 
more like brothers than like father and son. 

When I tell you that Mrs. Lloyd herself was a 
pretty but fragile-like little woman, and that Eva was 
just a juvenile edition of her mother, I have introduced 
the whole family to your notice. 

Stay a moment, tliough ; there is one other who 
deserves a passing word, namely Wolf, a splendid 
specimen of the true-bred British mastiff, grand and 
beautiful to a degree. Like a true-born Englishman, 

( M 132 ) 


V7ol£ was gentleness and kindness personified where 
women or children were concerned, but a very demon 
in fight, and a dog that would be faithful unto death 
in protecting his master's property or safeguarding 
his interests. 

Eva was very fond and very proud, too, of her 
clever brother Osmond. Clever to her he undoubtedly 
seemed. Had he not gained honours at Eton? Could 
anything be more glorious than that? Then he could 
write fairy stories and verses also — poetry, Eva called 
them — which, though they were never published, he 
used to recite to her in the calm summer's gloaming, 
causing her to cry one minute, only to burst into peals 
of merry laughter the next. 

Of course Eva loved Dick, her big, big brother also, 
despite the fact that he always treated her like a child; 
for when she ran down the avenue of an evening to 
meet him, he used to pick her up and seat her right 
on top of his left shoulder and thus march singing to 
the house with her. 

Osmond, on the other hand, treated her as a com- 
panion and an equal. In his long walks through the 
woodlands in summer she was always at one side of 
him, and Wolf the stately at the other. 

It is seldom that mastiffs take to retrievers' or 
Newfoundlands' work, but Wolf could not only swim 
well and powerfully, but fetch and carry also. Every 

- / ( M 132 ) B 


morning after breakfast, when the postman opened the 
gate at the foot of the lawn, Wolf went bounding off 
with gladsome sonorous bark to meet him. Then he 
received the bag, and came trotting back to the house 
with it. Nor would he deliver it up to anyone except 
his master — Osmond. So the young man always had 
the pleasure of sorting out the letters. There gene- 
rally was one or two for his mother, and a whole 
batch for his father and for Dick, but occasionally 
there was one for himself also. 

Now, young Osmond had cousins in America — 
cousins on the Southern side of the great struggle that 
was just then commencing, and cousins on the Northern 
side as well. 

These cousins, let me tell you, were not much to 
Dick. He simply owned them, that was all, and if 
the coming civil war was to affect him in any way, it 
would be merely from a business standpoint. 

But with Osmond, and even with Eva, it was totally 
different. They constantly corresponded with their 
cousins far beyond the sea, and the long letters they 
received almost every month were couched in language 
casting quite a halo of romance around the land of the 
greatest republic the world has ever seen. 

And so, when one morning Wolf came bounding in 
as usual with the letter-bag and Osmond found therein 
a very thick letter with American postage-stamps on 



it, his face positively glowed with joy and excite- 

He somewhat unceremoniously threw all the other 
letters on the table in front of his brother Dick, and 
with a meaning glance to Eva, who immediately fol- 
lowed him, ran off at once to the library. 

"Why," he cried; "why, Eva, what do you think?" 

He had read a portion of the letter to himself. 

" I don't know — do tell me." 

" No, guess." 

" I can't and won't. Don't keep me in suspense, Os. 
I know from your face the letter contains good news." 

"O, it isn't only good news; it is glorious news! 
Glorious! Lie down, Wolf; what do you know about 

"First and foremost. Cousin William and Cousin 
Harry have both become soldiers, and neither of them 
is much older than I am, you know, if any." 

"0, stop, Os, stop, I don't want you to tell me 
what is in the letter. That's not the proper way to do. 
Just read it out, and Wolf and I will listen." 

" Well, here goes," said Osmond. 

Then he commenced to read. 




HURRAH! Hurrah! Hurrah!'" commenced Osmond, 
his eyes on his cousin's letter. 

But Eva laughingly interrupted him. 

" Why, Os," she cried, " the letter doesn't begin like 
that, I'm sure." 

" Oh, but it does. The three words are written in 
large letters, and in one line right at the beginning. 
See for yourself." 

" So they are," said Eva, laughing. 

" ' Hurrah ! Hurrah ! Hurrah ! 

" ' My dearest Osmond, likewise Eva, whom I am 
coming across the herring-pond to marry some of 
these days after we have finished whipping the 
Northerns. This is written on the field of battle and 
on the evening of a great victory. Stay, I declare that 
I have forgotten to write down the date. It is the 
21st of July, 1861, then, a day that will henceforth be 
known as the glorious 21st. 

" ' Every now and then as I write, the joyous shouts 
of my brother soldiers come pealing on ray ear, and 
I have to leave off for a minute or two just to join 

"'Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah! 


" ' The wonder is that you haven't heard our shouts 
of victory, our pceans of triumph, even right away in 
the middle of dull and drowsy old England. 

"*N.B. The above, dear Osmond, is a joke; for out 
here in the sunny south of what was once the one 
great Republic, but is now virtually two, we all love 
England. And we sincerely hope and expect that 
before many weeks are over Great Britain, as you love 
to be called, will recognize the Confederates as a bel- 
ligerent power, and who knows but that, after we have 
whipped the North, and become ourselves a nation, 
Britain and our new Republic may enter into an alli- 
ance, offensive and defensive. Then, Osmond, with 
you at one side of the Atlantic and us at the other, 
won't we make the world sit up, just! 

" (' No, thank you ; I don't want any supper. I've 
had my fill of fighting and glory; but look here, 
Nathaniel, you may bring me about a quart of cofiee. 
Just set it on the drum yonder. There is a bullet-hole 
right through the head, so we may as well make a 
table of it, for it will never sound the assembly 

" ' The above sentence, dear cousins, is spoken to Nat, 
my soldier-in-attendance — I myself am an oflScer, and 
so you'd soon be too, if you were out here. Why don't 
you come and join us? For honour and glory, you 
know. We have more than one soldier of fortune 


among us who hails from England or Scotland. When 
I look up I see one now — a right good fellow. He has 
fought all over the globe, and I believe he bears a 
charmed life. Oh, can't he fight, just! And so coolly 
too ! To-day, on the plateau, while the battle raged its 
fiercest, while cannon roared, while rifle volleys seemed 
to tear the very clouds into tatters, I happened for a 
second only to glance towards bold M'Clellan's corps. 
This corps was standing by to resist Keyes' charge up 
the slope. M'Clellan was standing on its right. He 
had tucked his drawn sword, which had already drank 
blood, under his left arm, as if it had been an old 
umbrella, and was quietly lighting a cigar. But next 
minute, nay, in less time than that, my Osmond, that 
sword was once more pointed aloft, and in the direction 
of the foe. 

" ' Give it to 'em, boys,' he shouted. ' Give 'em fits. 

" 'And Keyes was hurled backwards down the slope, 
bravely though he and his men had sought to gain the 
brow of that blood-stained plateau. 

" ' And this brave fellow is now making coffee not far 
from where I write — making good coffee and frying- 
pan hagglety; and it was he who sent to ask me to 
come to dinner. 

" ' My dear cousins, Osmond and Eva, you will, I am 
sure, forgive me if I write in a somewhat rambling and 


disjointed manner in this letter. There is such a din 
all round me, and I haven't much light either. But 
I have far more to tell you than ever I could get into 
one single letter. 

" ' William, who is captain of a company, is not far 
from me at this moment. His men, strangely enough, 
are nearly all Irishmen. In the field of battle none 
are more daring, none more steady. Your great poet 
says, they 

' Move to death with military glee'. 

But to see them now, sitting or lying around the camp- 
fire, or cooking their rations, talking, laughing, singing 
as merrily as match-girls, you wouldn't think that not 
many hours ago they were hand to hand in fight with 
a desperate foe. I'm not sure either, Osmond, that 
there aren't what you'd call Irish rebels in that merry 
corps. Now, for instance, that song which yonder half- 
clad soldier is trolling forth, with manly voice and 
plenty of brogue, was never written for this war: — 

' Step together, boldly tread. 
Firm each foot, erect each head ; 
Fixed in front be every eye, 
Forward at the word 


Just at this portion of the letter Osmond lifted up 
his eyes. They were sparkling with excitement, and 


in strange contrast to those of his sister Eva. There 
was a look in hers that spoke of wonder as well as 
sorrow. Eva, you must know, was barely fifteen, very 
pretty and very merry at most times, but a perfect 
little woman nevertheless, as most girls are who have 
no sisters and are the constant companions of their 
elders. Details of fio-htinsf and stories of war had not 
the same interest for her, therefore, as for her roman- 
tic brother. She was of a somewhat practical turn of 
mind too, so when Osmond now exclaimed with a con- 
siderable degree of animation: — 

" Oh, Eva, wouldn't I like to be there, just, fighting 
side by side with cousin Harry in the glorious cause!" 

Eva made answer, " But what is the glorious cause ? 
What are they fighting for?" 

"Eh! what?" replied Osmond, somewhat taken 
aback. "Ahem! the cause, did you say? Well, we 
haven't come to that yet. But you may be sure the 
cause is glorious, else Harry and Will wouldn't fight 
for it. I'll read on. Let me see, where was I?" 

"'Forward at the word Advance!'" said Eva, 
prompting him. 

" Oh, yes, to be sure. Ahem! 

" ' I daresay, Osmond,' the letter ran on, ' you are 
like me. You don't care a very great deal about poli- 
tics. Politics is a fine thing, I don't doubt, but I guess 
it's got to take a back seat as soon as the sword is 


drawn, which it very courageously does; for most of 
the long-jawed buffers you hear shouting at Washing- 
ton are said to be the biggest cowards out in the smoke 
of battle, unless they are allowed to get in behind a 
barricade, and lie face downwards ! But, nevertheless, 
I daresay you would like to know how we, the Con- 
federates, came to draw swords against the Union, and 
how my brother and I have donned the bonnie gray 
uniform, and drawn the sword; and how even my dear 
father, your uncle, though long past sixty, holds a com- 
mand somewhere in Virginia. 

" ' Well, Cousin Osmond, as far as I can make it out, 
we are fighting because the Northerners are trying to 
force upon us such laws as no one with the feelings of 
a gentleman would consider himself justified in obey- 

" ' Mind you this, cousin, none of us Southerners wish 
to uphold slavery in the very worst sense of the word. 
You may roam through almost all our fair land, and 
see or hear absolutely nothing of the misery, the 
moaning, the groaning, the clank of chains, and re- 
volver-like crack of the lash, that Mrs. Harriet Beecher 
Stowe makes so much of in her milksop story of 
Uncle Tom's Cabin.' " 

" Oh!" cried Eva, interrupting him, with tears in her 
eyes; "I love it, Os, I love it, I love it. He mustn't 
write so about dear Uncle Tom." 


" So do I, Eva; but let me read on. 

" ' All that is moonshine, and even our ministers out 
here, cousin, tell us, and try to prove it too, that negroes 
were made and meant to be servants to white men. 
And they like to serve us too, I can assure you. Oh, 
dear Osmond, there wasn't a happier race of blacks in 
all the States than ours were just before the outbreak 
of this cruel war. Massa, my father, was all the world 
to them, and so were the young folks — my brother 
Will, my sisters, and I. Dear old Auntie Lee, as we 
called her, and white-haired Uncle Neile, they nursed 
us when we were mere pickaninnies. We romped and 
played with their black children ; rolled with them on 
the grass by the old cabin door; fished with them in 
the runs; hunted the woods with them and the dogs 
for the 'possums, and helped to eat the 'possums too 
in the cabin where old Uncle Neile had cooked them. 
Dear days that are gone, days of auld lang syne! 
Just because we are a little older, and the war has 
broken out. Only that and nothing else. But 

* We hunt no more for the 'possum and the coon 

By the meadow, the stream, and the shore. 
We dance no more by the glimmer of the moon, 

Near the bench by the old cottage door. 
The day goes by like a shadow o'er the heart, 

With sorrow where all was delight ; 
For the time has come when the darkies have to part, 

Then my old Kentucky home, good-night.' 


" ' But, cousin mine, the darkies are not going to part 
yet. You bet ! But even were the tables to be turned, 
and were the Federals to whip us instead of our whip- 
ping them, and were President Lincoln to declare their 
emancipation, I feel sure we would be none the worse 
off, for not a black man, woman, or child would leave 
our plantation. 

" ' But it does seem hard that a Southern gentleman 
should not be allowed to travel with his servants 
through the Northern States. We all felt the injus- 
tice of the laws they have been trying to force on us. 
We all feel it now, dear Osmond, and that is why we 
have left the old plantation. We have Davis — dear 
Jeff we call him — for our President, and we are going 
to fight for him and freedom as long as there is a shot 
in the locker or a cartridge left in our belts. 

" ' Having drawn the sword, we have thrown away 
the scabbard, and I guess that means biz. It is sad for 
those we leave behind on the old plantation, sad for 
mother and sisters, I mean; but dear mum is, I think, 
a bit of a Spartan at heart, and although her tears 
may flow, she would rather we were here on the war- 
path than living at home in ease and luxury. 

" ' The very last song I heard my youngest sister 
sing, Osmond, was that old Jacobite one with its sad, 
sweet, but brave air, ' He's ower the hills that I lo'e 
weel', and one verse I thought was so appropriate to 


our cause and to our family, I do not wonder that dear 
Looie's eyes were moist as she sang it. 

' My father's gane to fight for him, 
My brithers wiuna bide at hame. 
My mither greets ^ aud prays for them ; 
But 'deed she thinks they're no to blame.' 

" ' Well, Osmond, this is the eve of our first real 
battle, but not of our first fight; and before I tell you 
what I know of Bull Run, I must tell you something 
about Fort Sumter, because the doings there really 
commenced the war. 

" ' Now, I think the capture of this fort was just a 
real plucky thing. But mind you this, Osmond, we 
mean to take all the forts and all the coast defences, 
and we mean to take the completest possession of the 
Mississippi River, and we mean to capture Washing- 
ton, ay, and to hold it too, and to dictate our terms of 
peace to the Federals from the capital itself. You'll 
see. But now about Fort Sumter.' " 




VA crept a little closer to the side of her favourite 
brother, so that she could lean one arm on his 

1 Weeps. 


knee and look up into his face as he read the rest of 
Cousin Henry's letter. 

Wolf, too, appeared to be interested, for he sat at 
Osmond's left side, and rested his enormous head on 
his other knee. Thus encouraged, Os read on. 

" ' I am sure, my dear cousin, that you don't know a 
great deal about the geography of the American 
States. If you do you must be a great exception to 
the general run of young fellows of your age. There- 
fore, I beseech you to possess yourself of a good 
skeleton map as soon as you can. Because you will 
then be able to follow the fighting^. I say a skeleton 
map, because most of what are called maps are so 
stuffed with unimportant villages and towns that look- 
ing for the place you want is just like searching for a 
bit of orange-peel in a well-made and rich Christmas 

" Give me that big atlas," said Osmond to his sister. 

Eva rose and found it, and staggered back to the 
window with it, and Os opened it at North America, 
supporting its weight on Wolf's great head. 

Wolf didn't seem to care a bit. 

•' ' Now, Os,' the letter continued, ' I shall sup- 
pose that you have a map before you. Well, you will 
easily find New York Bay. If, then, your eye goes 

1 The author has done his best to supply the reader with a map of this 
sort, in which he places onhj the towns, rivers, &c., that are needed to 
explain the narrative, and nothing that may tend to confuse the eye. 


southward past Sandy Hook and Monmouth, you will 
soon come to the great Bay of Delaware, Southwards 
still, and you will round Cape Charles and find your- 
self in the wonderful Bay of Chesapeake. You will 
note that it goes stretching away almost directly north 
ever so far. Towards its head you will find the City 
of Baltimore, and you will be surprised to discover 
that Chesapeake here lies inland from the Bay of 
Delaware, the State of that name lying between lower 
down — south, I mean. You will please observe that 
the Potomac river branches off" to the left, going on- 
wards up to Washington itself, (The word Potomac 
has the accent on the second o, not the first. It isn't 
pronounced Potomac, as you Britishers call the famous 
river, but Po^oAmac.) Well, Osmond, dear coz, if 
you look in through the State of Virginia on the east 
— and you may as well do so now as at any other 
time — ^you can't fail to find Richmond. Spot that, 
please, because that is the Confederate capital. There 
is Fredericksburg also on the Rappahannock, and the 
Shenandoah River and the Blue Ridge Mountains. 
Better keep those in mind, because if ever the Federals 
get that way they're going to find some fighting in 
front of them; and I guess they'll leave their scalps 
lying about in these districts, 

"'But bring your gaze seawards again past Fortress 
Monroe and Cape Henry, and south away past Albe- 


marie Sound, Wilmington, in South Carolina, and then 
Charleston Bay or harbour. 

" ' What a long way south from Washington,' you 
will naturally observe. ' What right had the Northern 
States with a fort down there anyhow?' Well, that is 
what I want to know. 

'" South Carolina, you must know, Osmond, has been 
called the Game-cock State because it seceded so boldly 
in the month of December, and by its courageous con- 
duct forced the other and wavering States to follow 
its example. 

'"Well, the State of South Carolina having 'seceshed', 
as the Feds term it, the 'seceshers' naturally expected 
that the Northern forces would clear out of the forts 
bag and baggage, to prevent a collision with the 
Southern troops. 

" ' But they were disappointed. 

" ' You see Major Anderson was commander of the 
Federal forces at Charleston, and had had his head- 
quarters at Fort Moultrie, but he now transferred 
his soldiers and his command to Fort Sumter, which 
he rightly considered a far stronger place. 

"'Well, the South Carolina folks, through their 
Governor, remonstrated with the Northern Govern- 
ment at Washington — Buchanan then being President 
— but in vain. 

" ' By and by Lincoln came into power, and once 


more delegates went to Washington, asking for a 
peaceable separation of the seceding States, and the 
removal of Federal garrisons from Fort Sumter and 
Fort Pickens in Florida. These two places of all the 
strongholds on the Confederate sea-board alone dis- 
played the stars and stripes. 

" ' Lincoln did not see his way to accede to the pro- 
posal, but the matter hung fire for a time, and the 
Carolinians had to subsist upon hope: not a very 
satisfying dish, I may tell you. 

" ' Meanwhile, somewhat suh rosa, an expedition was 
being fitted out for the relief of Fort Sumter. 

'"You may wonder how I found all this out, Osmond. 
Well, it is only lately I have done so, and the birdie 
who told me may have been one of our prisoners, or I 
may have gained the information in a letter from our 
cousins Tom, John, and Charlie, who are fighting on 
the Federal side, you know. I am not going to tell 
you, Os, but if you ever come out here you will 
know all and more. As early as January a steamer 
called the Star of the West, under command of Captain 
John M'Gowan, had been despatched with provisions 
and men to relieve the garrison of Fort Sumter, but 
the batteries of the Confederates opened upon him, 
and he was obliged to retire. 

"'But now, on the 1st of April, President Lincoln 
determined to succour the fort at all hazards. Charles- 


ton should no longer be a menace to the States of the 
Union. So he commissioned the big: f rio-ate Powhattan 
for service. She was then lying at New York. 
Captain Fox, a thorough navy sailor, was to have 
charge of the relief, and besides, was to command 
several other craft. They were a nondescript kind of 
lot, all of different sizes, and, singularly enough, they 
didn't all sail at the same time for the rendezvous. 
The Powhattan started about the 6th, and the others 
followed day after day up to the 10th, Captain Fox 
himself taking passage in the Bristol. 

" ' Now the failure of this expedition and the con- 
sequent loss to the Federals of Fort Sumter seems to 
have been owing to treachery, or to some stupid mis- 
take. A heavy gale of wind arose, but even this 
would hardly have prevented the relief of the fort 
and its half-starving garrison had the Powhattan 
arrived in time with the men or stores, and para- 
phernalia generally. 

"'All honour be given to a brave enemy, and I must 
say that Captain Fox did all in his power to assist 
the garrison, but when he arrived and got the rest of 
his fleet together he found that the battle was already 

" ' The facts are these, dear cousin, the President — 
Davis, I mean, that is our dear king, you know — got 
an inkling that Fox's expedition was on the wing and 

( M 132 ) C 


hurrying south to the garrison's reKef, so he at once 
sent General Beauregard, a well-known engineer, to 
take command of the batteries of Charleston. 

"'Finding them strong enough for anything, this brave 
soldier at once sent a message to Major Anderson, de- 
manding his surrender. This was on the 11th of April, 
and the invitation to give up the fort was promptly 
but politely declined. At midnight an ultimatum was 
despatched, but this was also refused, and so at day- 
dawn of April 12th the shore forts opened fire on 

" ' Many a time the windows of Charleston had 
rattled to the fire of mimic warfare, but all was now 
deadly earnest, for the muttering thunder of those 
great guns proclaimed the outbreak of the terrible 
storm of civil war, that has now burst in such fury 
over our dear native land. 

" ' The fort replied on both sides to the guns of the 
Confederate batteries, and shot and shells burst, and 
screamed, and roared over the water, the battle being 
described as furious. 

'"It was a bad time for the Federals in that fort, 
Osmond, for more than once it was seen to be on fire, 
and it turned out afterwards that although the garrison 
were short of ammunition, they were so afraid of an 
explosion, that they threw much of what they had into 
the water. 


"'Well, all that day the battle raged, and though peace 
reigned when darkness fell, the bombardment was re- 
commenced at daybreak with redoubled fury. 

"'All this could only have one ending; and so, having 
done his duty, like the brave soldier he undoubtedly 
was, Major Anderson surrendered. But not before the 
stars and stripes were actually shot away amidst a 
perfect storm of shot and shell. 

" ' Several times, I am told. Captain Fox, who must 
have spent a terribly anxious time, attempted to come 
in upon the 13th, but a heavy sea ran, the fog was 
rather thick, and the forts were all enveloped in a 
cloud of dense smoke. Moreover, without the Pow- 
hattan frigate he could do absolutely nothing. 

" ' So on the 14th, the day after the surrender, Major 
Anderson and his garrison embarked on board the 
Baltic and sailed away to the north, while our fine 
fellows took possession of the fort, the first-fruits of 
victoxy in what is going to be a glorious though 
terrible war. 

" ' So fell Fort Sumter, Cousin Osmond, and having 
told you so much, I shall re-trim my lamp and drink 
my coffee. 

" ' That coffee was good, Cousin. Ah, there is no- 
thing like war and the excitement of battle for giving 
one an appetite! 


" ' Well, Os, as soon as the news of the fall of the fort 
got up north, I am told that the furore it excited was 
simply immense. War! war! war! was the cry. War 
to the knife! War to avenge the insult to the brave 
old flag that had been so ruthlessly dragged in the 

" ' War, yes; and they are going to have it too, more 
than they may care for. But I was told also that the 
enthusiasm of the Federals was now really very great, 
and that each Northern state vied with the other as 
to which should send the largest number of recruits, 
and send them most quickly. President Lincoln, it is 
said, only called for seventy-five thousand, but over 
one hundred and ten thousand presented themselves 
for enrolment! 

" ' Probably the next bloodshed in this war — though 
it could not be called a battle — took place in Baltimore. 

" ' This happened only six days after the fall of Fort 
Sumter. The first division of volunteers was hurrying 
from Massachusetts in the far north to the Federal 
capital, and were marching through Baltimore streets 
towards the station for Washington, when they were 
attacked by a furious mob. They fired, and then the 
riot became a terrible pandemonium. The Federals 
had to fight their way to the station, and even after 
they had embarked they fired upon the mob on the 
platform from the carriage windows. The mob replied 


with pluck and determination, riddling the carriages 
with bullets, and killing or wounding not a few of the 
Federal volunteers. But the train got steam up at 
last, and comparative peace succeeded her departure. 

" 'Baltimore, you know, Osmond, or will know if you 
glance at your map, is a charming city in Maryland, 
and it was thought for a time that it would join with us. 

" ' Kentucky, you will note, lies to the west and a 
trifle to the south of Virginia, part of which country 
is on the sea-board, so to speak. The governor of 
Kentucky has done a very foolish thing, as you should 
know. In this state the younger men are wild for 
war, but the older and more sedate prefer to remain in 
the union. And so the governor has declared the 
state neutral, and warns us that we must not fiorht in 
his sacred territory. Just as if any state so situated 
could be neutral in a great struggle such as this is 
going to be. 

" ' But we shall soon see.' 



"ITTELL, Osmond,' the letter went on, 'calling for 

' ' recruits is a game that two can play at, and 

our brave and kindly Jefl" Davis has not been behind- 


hand. He, too, called for recruits, and so quickly was 
he answered, that very soon indeed this President had 
an army fit to cope against any force the Northerners 
were likely to bring. 

" ' I'll never forget the excitement in the little town 
that lay not far from our plantation on the north- 
western borders of South Carolina, ay, and the enthu- 
siasm on the plantation itself, when the order for 
recruiting reached us. I believe that father, Will, and 
I were among the very first to join. Yes, we would 
have to leave our dear old home behind us, leave 
mother and sisters in sorrow and tears, but we were 
going to fight for our native state, fight for our free- 
dom, and, indeed, for our very lives, and the lives of 
all that were dear to us. We would not be away long, 
we told those dear ones. Victory would soon be ours, 
for against us no enemy could possibly make a long 

" 'The slaves, we knew, would remain loyal whatever 
happened, and there was big, brawny John M'Donald, 
our manager, whom they looked up to as a kind of 
second master. 

" ' I'll be a father to them all,' he told us as he shook 
hands. ' And I only wish,' he added, ' I could gang wi' 
ye mysel'. Man, boys! my very fingers are itchin' to 
get a grip o' some o' they Feds.' 

"'And so we left. I say nothing more about the 


parting, the kisses, the prayers, the tears. It is all 
too recent, and tends to unman one. 

" ' The streets of our town, when we reached it, were 
filled with the populace, and they seemed to have 
taken leave of their senses. 

" ' They were shouting, singing, waving their arms 
aloft, shaking hands, ay, and weeping in their very 
excitement. But, Osmond, I am proud and happy to 
tell you that I scarcely saw a single young fellow 
under the influence of drink. 

' " It was night when we joined the depot. We knew 
the commandant, and he did all he could for our 
comfort. Our beds were not beds of down, however, 
nor have they been since, nor will they be until we 
whip the Federals finally, and make peace in Wash- 

" ' We were paraded next day, and drill was com- 
menced in earnest. Well, it was somewhat of a rough 
parade. Accustomed as you are, my dear cousin, to 
your faultlessly dressed regiments, with snowy belts, 
glittering accoutrements, and coats of scarlet, you 
would have stood aghast on first beholding our parade. 

" ' We had arms served out to us that first day, but 
it was more for fashion's sake than anything else. It 
would have been better to serve out jackets, shirts, 
hats, or shoes. But then there weren't any, you know ; 
and most unkempt, uncouth tatterdemalions some of 


US were. But one thing would have pleased you — the 
look of determination and defiance on every face. 

" ' After we had been put through our preliminary 
facings, the commandant, a gray-bearded old soldier, 
made a kind of a speech, as he puffed away at a big 

" ' Boys,' he said, ' I guess we ain't a great deal to 
look at, just yet. But such as we are. President Jeff 
Davis is welcome to us. We ain't much to look at, 
but we'll trim down, you bet. We've got to march in 
a few days' time to the north and the east, and by and 
by we've got to meet the Yankees. They call us Rebs. 
Wall, I guess we'll show 'em what Rebs can do. We've 
got to beat 'em, we've got to lick 'em, we've got to 
whip 'em into teetotal skirrie-mush, and if there's a 
single man in this here regiment that feels he hasn't 
the heart to take part in the whipping-match, why, let 
him fall out. What! nobody falls out? Boys, we're 
all going to fight. Hurrah!' 

"'The commandant waved his cap aloft, and such a 
wild cheer rent the sky as I never heard before, and 
haven't since. The street urchins joined in, and the 
girls too, yes, and the very babies in arms waved their 
wee red chubby fists, and joined the wild shout and 
laughed and crowed, as if it were the best fun imagin- 

" ' Well, to make a long story short, father and Will 


and I got each the rank of officer, and in a few days' 
time we were en route for the neighbourhood of 

" ' Our ranks were swollen as we marched onwards, 
and very soon we were a very respectable little army 
— in numbers, that is, and, I may add, in spirit and in 
daring as well. 

" ' I do not mean to say, Osmond, that every man 
among us was imbued with a purely patriotic spirit. 
Far from it. There were in our ranks both good and 
bad. There were spirit-drinking ne'er-do-weels who 
had joined the service by way of a change, or because 
they were stone-broke and hadn't a cent wherewith to 
bless themselves; there were tramps by the dozen, the 
wretched and idle castaways of the world, who had 
joined us as a mere matter of business and speculation, 
that is, with a lively eye to booty; there were men 
who had quarrelled with their wives — poor fellows! — 
and boys who had been jilted by their sweethearts — 
these last were fond of meandering around the camp 
alone after nightfall and quoting poetry by the fur- 
long — and last, if not least, there were desperadoes 
from Texas, from Mexico, and the far south generally, 
swaggerers as a rule these were, but fond of fighting, 
even for fighting's sake. 

'"On the whole, however, I think that in our regiment 
the good prevailed. 


" ' I must sa}^ that we all set ourselves heart and soul 
to learn the drill, and all the outs and ins of camp -life 
as soon as we possibly could, and the first time we 
were inspected by a real live general he expressed 
himself very pleased with our appearance and, as he 
phrased it, ' our soldierly bearing '. I know that 
these last words made our rank and file proud. I 
looked along my company as the general uttered 
them, and I was proud to see — yes, proud is the word, 
my boy— to see every man, mechanically, as it were, 
brace himself up more squarely, while every eye grew 
brighter and every brow was lowered, as if each man 
had registered a vow there and then to do or die in 
the glorious cause. 

" 'We had not been a week on the road before strag- 
glers began to drop in from the north. Mostly deserters 
these were from the Federal ranks. Now deserters as 
a rule receive no very gushing welcome from the 
regiments they honour with a visit. But these men 
were not ordinary deserters. They really were Southern- 
ers at heart, who had enlisted in Federal regiments, 
but had taken the earliest opportunity of getting away. 

" ' But they brought with them some ugly stories of 
the Northern soldiery, which I am sorry to say, 
Osmond, were greedily listened to and unhesitatingly 

" ' The Federals, they said, looked forward to victory. 


They believed that we could never fight, never stand 
before them; that we possessed no more courage than 
as many boarding-school girls; that we were mere 
butter-and-bread soldiers, and would fly before the 
Northern army. And, said the new-comers, the 
determination of the Northern soldiers, officers as well 
as men, is to plunder, to slay, to sack, and to burn. 
They had only one motto, and that was: — 

'Booty and Beauty!' 

"'This is horrible, but I for one do not believe it, 
neither does Will ; and, besides, I am sure that our dear 
cousins in Northern Ohio, Tom and John and Charlie, 
would never fight side by side with men who had such 
a dreadful motto as that. 

" ' But oh, dear Osmond, does not civil war seem to 
be a terrible thing, when one has to draw the sword 
against one's own flesh and blood? Soon may it end, 
I say. That is, you know, the sooner we beat the 
Feds out of their skins the better. 

" ' Well, dear boy, if I have given you to believe that 
to-day's battle is the first real fight, I think I am 
right, but more than a month ago the deserters told 
us that success had already crowned the arms of our 

" ' This is the news they brought. 

" ' Our people have been obliged to abandon the 


attempt they at first considered feasible, — that is, of 
marching right into, and seizing Washington. 

'"Secondly, on the south bank of the Potomac, and 
about fifty miles north-west of Washington, lies, or 
rather stood, the arsenal of Harper's Ferr}'-. The 
Virginians — our fellows — attacked this place, and the 
officer in charge set fire to it; but after despoiling it, 
the Southerners abandoned it to the Federals. Folly! 

" ' Thirdly, although the Virginians seized the great 
navy yard of Gosport near Norfolk they, curiously 
enough, left Fortress Monroe on Chesapeake Bay in 
the possession of the enemy. This fortress would 
have been, if held by us, of the greatest advantage, 
strategically considered. N.B. — You will note, my 
cousin, that I am quite a soldier already. No one but 
a soldier could use such a scientific phrase as that last 
— ' strategically considered '. 

" ' But, joking apart, Os, the capture of the navy yard 
is something immense. It contains foundries, docks, 
ship-building yards, and a huge arsenal. About a 
million pounds of gunpowder have fallen into our 
hands, five hundred Dahlgren guns, and any quantity 
of shot and shell. Hurrah! for our brave Virginians. 

"'Fourthly, if the deserters are to be believed, 
General M'Dowell, the commander-in-chief of the 
Federal forces, has been driving our troops like as 
many sheep right before him down south. 


" ' The last news brought by a runaway would have 

been funny if it had not been quite so sad. I give it 

to you for what it is worth, Osmond, and I myself am 

willing to believe just half of it — the second half, mind 

you. But first I want you to write three names upon 

the tablets of your memory, because you'll hear of the 

men again — 

General M'Clellan. 

General Rosecrans. 

General Butler. 

"'Well, the first half of the story is this: — The Generals 
M'Clellan and Rosecrans, about the first week in July, 
defeated the Confederates, that is our side, at Rich 
Mountain, killed two hundred, and captured seven 
guns, and a thousand prisoners. But the deserter 
who told us this, and said that he himself was in the 
fight, told us also that the Federal forces were as ten 
to one, so the North has not much to boast of, even if 
it be true. 

'"The second half of the story is the one generally 
credited by us, and it is just here where the fun comes 
in. For there was lying within ten miles of Hampton 
— the headquarters of the Federals — a Confederate 
camp of about a thousand men. On the 9th of June, 
bold General Butler determined to attack this camp. 
So he issued from Fortress Monroe at night in two 
strong divisions. These two took different routes in 


order to sui-prise the ' Rebs ' from two directions, and 
so confuse and confound them. 

" ' As ill-luck (for Butler) would have it, neither of 
the two divisions found the ' Rebs '. But they found 
each other, and, forgetting the watchword, naturally 
supposed they had met the foe. So at it they went, 
hammer and tongs, and many were killed on either 
side before the mistake was discovered. The pity is, 
Osmond, they did not annihilate one another like the 
Kilkenny cats. 

" ' After the mistake was discovered they combined, 
and, coming upon the position of the Confederate 
camp, attacked in force, but the Federal Major Win- 
throp, while gallantly leading the charge, was shot 
dead by a Confederate drummer-boy, and soon after 
this the Federals were in full flight back to their 
fortress, badly beaten and wholly demoralized. 

"'And now, Osmond, we come right away to the 
battle at Bull Run. And I am just going to tell you 
all I know about it straight away. But this, mind 
you, isn't a very great deal, because no one can be in 
two places at the same time, and one can't describe 
much more than one actually sees. 

" ' But before beginning this I happened to saunter 
towards our General Beauregard's headquarters. He 
was writing a despatch on the top of a drum, but gave 


me a kindly welcome, and told quite a deal that I 
didn't know, and this information I am now going to 
impart to you.'" 



WAIT a moment, Osmond," cried Eva, her eyes 
sparkling with a kind of merry mischief. 

She rose as she spoke, and going to the sofa, picked 
up a newspaper, with which she returned to her seat 
by her brother's knee. 

" Can this be true?" she said, smilinof. 

" Read it, Eva, and I'll tell you." 

" It is printed in the Daily Tickler, anyhow, and is 
headed: — 'The Battle of Bull Run', and runs as 
follows: — 'This terrific fight between the almighty 
Federal forces and the tatterdemalion legions of the 
sunny South might better have been called the battle 
of cows' run. At first both armies appeared equally 
surprised that they had met at all. Then it seemed 
to occur to them that they had met to fight. So they 
went for each other with all the vim and pluck of a 
pair of pug dogs. By all accounts the fighting was 
awful, for they kept on from morn till dewy eve, with 
the splendid result that no less than five were killed 


and nine wounded. But for the presence of some 
Scotch and Irish, it is stated that no one would have 
been either killed or wounded. At sunset, both armies 
were in full retreat in opposite directions. The conse- 
quence is that both claim the victory, and both are 
welcome to it; but at this rate the Civil 'War' must 
last for a thousand years at least, then the millennium 
will come.' " 

" Well," said Osmond, laughing, " the Daily TicJder 
goes in for being a funny pennyworth, and no doubt 
an occasional joke improves a paper of this sort; but 
let me read more of Harry's letter." 

" Go on, then," said Eva. 

" ' I fear,' continues Cousin Harry, ' that you are 
already heartily tired of my long letter, but I'll be as 
brief as I can. One's first battle, you know, must 
always be considered an event in one's life, like a girl's 
first ball. 

" ' I daresay, Osmond, I must tell you the meaning of 
the name 'Bull Run'. A 'run' is American for a 
smallish river, and Bull Bun, rising among the moun- 
tains away west and Shenandoah way, and receiving 
several tributaries in its flow, falls into the wide part 
of the Potomac below Washington and Alexandria. 

" ' The course of the stream Bull Bun is about from 
north-west to south-east, and latterly due east. It 
receives from directly north the Cub Bun, and this 


flows past the village of Centerville, then held by 

"'Our position before the battle was on the south 
side of the Bull Run, with the railway bridge on our 
right, and a stone or turnpike bridge on our left. 

" ' Right athwart our rear ran the railway from 
Shenandoah Valley through the Gap to Manassas 
Junction. Now Johnston, one of our generals, had 
been sent to the Shenandoah to defend it against a 
supposed advance of the Federals in that direction, the 
Federal general, Patterson, being opposed to him; but 
finding it was only a feint, he made haste to get back 
on to Manassas Junction with the troops, to assist 
General Beauregard of Sumter fame, who there had an 
army of 20,000 men, with his right stretching towards 
Alexandria and the Potomac. 

'"The Federal general M'Dowell had nearly 25,000 
men in front of Washington, extending from the Chain 
Bridge to Alexandria. As early as the 16th, M'Dowell 
had received orders to attack Beauregard, and he 
advanced with 25,000 with this intention. We are 
told by prisoners that on his way to Centerville, which 
we had fallen back from, the weather was terribly hot, 
and the army, which was little better than a mob in 
gay uniform, moved on singing and joking, sometimes 
even stopping and scrambling for blackberries by the 

(M132) D 


'"M'Dowell's game seemed to be to turn the Con- 
federate left with all the power he could command, 
and thus strike at the railway, and prevent Johnston 
from getting up. Many of his troops, however, who 
had been only enlisted for three months, discovered 
that their time was up, and took French leave. Fight- 
ing was not to their taste. 

'" However, it appears that M'Dowell did all a brave 
man could under the circumstances. His two generals, 
Tyler and Hunter, were perhaps a little slow in their 
movements. Had they been able to come to the scratch 
on the 19th, or even the 20th, matters might have 
ended somewhat differently; at any rate, the Federals 
would have had a better chance. But on the 20th 
Johnston had already joined Beauregard, a fact of 
which M'Dowell was not cognisant. 

"'Well, Osmond, our left flank extended up the 
stream past the stone bridge towards the ford called 
Sudley's Spring, and you see the plan was this : — Tyler, 
and M'Dowell's other generals, Hunter and Heinetzel- 
man, were to be on the move on Sunday morning, the 
21st, by two o'clock: Tyler was to march upon the 
stone bridge, and hover about there as if making 
ready to cross, but in reality only feinting, and wait- 
ing till the other Federal generals, with a strong force, 
should get up and cross the stream at Sudley's Spring. 
He would then commence to cross in reality, just as 


Hunter and Co. 'came down like a wolf on the fold', 
attacking us in left flank and rear. 

" ' It was prettily arranged. But we were not going 
to be idle, for we knew that as soon as Federal 
General Patterson, who had been keeping Johnston in 
check in the Shenandoah Valley, missed him, he would 
hurry down to join M'Dowell. Our plan, then, was 
to try to smash M'Dowell first. 

" ' But we were not quite in time to take the initia- 

'" I think you must know, Osmond, that some of our 
fighting ancestors, Scotch and English, would have 
pushed on over the stream that very night — it was 
moonlight, and there were several fords. However, 
they lay still in camp. 

'"Both Will and I knew that a great battle was to 
take place next morning. About ten last night I met 
my dear brother, and all by ourselves we went for a 
stroll in the moonlight. We knew the pass-word, so 
of course there was no danger. 

" 'We passed quietly through a portion of the great 
camp. The men sat or lay here, and there, and anyhow, 
mostly smoking and yarning. A few, I believe, were 
praying. But the men, as a whole, gave us the im- 
pression of being unusually hilarious. Laughing, 
joking, and singing were heard on all sides. 

" ' Mostly blufiy brother Will said to me quietly. 


' They are trying to hide their anxiety and fears for 
the morrow.' 

" ' I said nothing^, and presently we climbed a little 
eminence and sat down on a stone. I looked upwards. 
The sky was mostly clear and starry, but ever and 
anon a cloud passed over the moon's clear disc. Before 
us was the valley of the stream, with a yellow haze 
lying close over the water; behind us the forests 
around Manassas, and away to the west, and but 
dimly seen, the everlasting hills. 

'"But for the murmur uprising from the camp the 
silence would have been striking, for not a leaf or 
blade of grass stirred in the air. 

"'Mostly bluff, brother!' Will repeated. 

" ' Don't you feel afraid. Will?' I asked. 

" ' Henry, I know you do. Nay, I shall not call it 
fear, but only anxiety, and though older than you, I 
do not wish to die to-morrow. I am not ready. Nor 
do I wish to leave my sisters and mother.' 

" ' I was silent. 

" ' Harry,' he said presently, ' let us kneel down 
beside this stone and pray. We needn't pray aloud.' 

" ' We did not pray aloud, Osmond, but you know 
that God, who heareth in secret, can openly reward. 

" ' After we sat up we sang a simple psalm. It was 
not one of those that invoke the God of Bethel to 
pour down destruction and vials of wrath upon our 


enemies. Our enemies, after all, were our country- 
men and our brothers. And tliere, last night, beneath 
the moon and holy stars, we could not help feeling 

" ' What shall we sing?' I said. 

"'Be 7)ierciful,' answered Will laconically. 'Tune 
Martyrdoim' he added. 

" 'And so we lifted up our voices and sang: 

" ' Be merciful to me, O God; 
Thy mercy unto me 
Do Thou extend ; because my soul 
Doth put her trust in Thee : 

" ' Yea, in the shadow of Thy wings 
My refuge I will place, 
Until these sad calamities 
Do wholly overpass. 

" ' O Lord, exalted be Thy name 
Above the heavens to stand ; 
Do Thou Thy glory far advance 
Above both sea and land.' 

" ' Tlie last notes had hardly died away w^hen we 
were conscious that we were not alone. A footstep 
ailvancing was heard behind us. We grasped our 
revolvers, and stood on the qui vive. 

" ' No need, Osmond, no need. It was Father! 

"'Dear boys,' he said, 'and so I have found you?' 

" ' I don't know, dear cousin, what came over me just 


then, but I grasped the hand he extended to me, and 
burst into tears. 

" ' But I must do myself the credit of saying, Os, 
that I did not weep to-day. Many there may have 
been who shed tears last night as well as myself, but 
in the battle of to-day I saw nothing but deeds of 
valour all around. 

'"Well, although Tyler did not get to the Stone 
Bridge so soon as he expected, nor Hunter and Co. to 
Sudley's Spring, they reached these points quite early 
enough for us. A feint had been made at Beauregard's 
right, which might, however, have developed into a 
battle-centre had he weakened his force at this point 
to come to our assistance. Though he soon discovered 
that the main attack was to be on our left, he feared 
to help us. 

" ' So by mid-day our flank was turned, and we were 
being thrust back before one o'clock. It was at this 
critical moment that our brave Jackson, who was in 
reserve, was ordered up. 

" ' He took possession of a pine-covered ridge or 
plateau betwixt our main army and Sudley's Spring, 
where we were being discomfited. Up the slope to- 
wards this plateau came the stragglers from our left, 
fleeing — I fear that is the right word — before 
M'Dowell's furious Federals. Bee, one of our generals, 
addressed Jackson, 


" ' They are beating us, general,' he cried. 

" ' Then we'll give them the bayonet,' answered 

" ' The words inspired General Bee. Sword in hand, 
he now rallied his men. 

" ' Yonder,' he cried, ' stands Jackson like a stone 

" ' Hurrah for Stonewall Jackson!' shouted the men. 

" ' This turned the tide of battle, and when at last 
sturdy ' Stonewall Jackson', as the men are going to 
call him, was reinforced by Kirby Smith with 2000 
fresh soldiers, and Beauregard ordered a general 
advance, the battle for a time became furious. 

" ' But soon the Federals appeared cowed and panic- 
stricken, and began to retreat. That retreat ended in 
a rout, Osmond. Oh, we were wild, wild now, my 
cousin. Our swords and bayonets had drank blood. 
All fear was banished ; in its place was wild enthu- 
siasm or exultation. 

" ' How the cannons thundered ! How deadly was 
the song of the rifles, and the zip-zip-ziping of the 
bullets. Just then, Osmond, war seemed to me the 
most natural thing in creation, and certainly the most 

" ' But our victory was soon assured. 

" ' Our cavalry put the fear of death upon the enemy, 
and they fled for dear life. We pursued them towards 


Leesburg and Centerville till the darkness of night hid 
them from our view, capturing arms and field batteries 
and standards. 

" ' I must now close my letter, dear cousin, for the 
night is far spent, and none of us knows what the 
morrow may have in store for us. 

" ' Our loss did you say? About 400 killed and 1500 
wounded. The enemy lost more. But, oh, Osmond, I 
thank the dear Lord to whom we sang last night that 
Father and Will are safe and sound. 

" ' God bless you, Os, my boy, and my sweet little 
cousin Eva. 

"'Good-l)yo, good-bye! Hurrah, hurrah!'" 

So ended this heroic letter. 

If it seems in some degree bomliastic, the reader 
must remember that the writer was little more than a 



TT was the middle of August when Eva and Osmond 
-*- received that long, bold letter from their cousin 
Henry, and Osmond soon after began to make pre- 
parations for entering Oxford. At least he was sup- 
posed to be doing so. Indeed, he ought to have been 
studying all summer 


I fear, however, that study was not very much in 
Osmond's way. The weather, he told his mother, 
oppressed him very much, and he seemed to be always 
under it. When it was hot and sultry he could not 
read. It was so much better and more delightful to 
take his stick in his hand and, with great Wolf by his 
side, journey far aw^ay over the hills to another glen, 
where there was no smoke and plenty of wild birds 
and wild flowers. He generally took a botanical case 
over his shoulder, thus making himself and other 
people believe that he was studying botany. The 
botanical case was full when he started, for it con- 
tained his own and Wolf's luncheon, but I fear it was 
empty when he returned. Well, after all, hot weather 
does make one sleepy, and books of science appear 
doubly dull when one feels thus. 

When it rained Osmond gave up all thoughts of 
work, and preferred remaining in a room ironically 
called his study. lie just lay on the sofa and read 
books of adventure or Walter Scott's novels or poems. 

Nice preparation this for entering the university 
in October, you will say. Perhaps, but between you 
and me and the binnacle, when the end of August 
came, Osmond had no idea of entering the university 
at all. 

The truth is, that since he had read that letter of 
Henry's, the desire to cross the Atlantic and to become 


a soldier in the Southern cause had become almost too 
strong for his reason. He fought and struggled against 
it, but all to no purpose. Even in his dreams he was 
fighting side by side with his American cousin and 
gallantly leading on a company of " the boys " to 
death or victory. 

One autumn day he sat poring over a book of higher 
mathematics until his senses began to reel. I question 
very much if he understood anything of what he had 
been reading. Anyhow he shut the book with a bang 
at last, and then flung it right to the other end of the 

Wolf got up with rather a sad expression of coun- 
tenance, and, after retrieving the book, laid it solemnly 
on his master's knee. 

" Look here. Wolf," said Os, " I tell you I won't and 
can't. I am going to be a soldier — I am bound to be a 
soldier. There is no use fighting against fate any 
longer. What think you, Wolf?" 

Wolf wagged his tail. 

" My father and mother won't consent to my going 
over to help Cousin Henry, I know. They want me 
to enter one of the learned professions. They have 
given me my choice. But what care I for learned 
professions. The law is too harsh and dry. Medicine 
is too sloppy, and as for tlie Church — why, I'm not 
good enough. So there! And," he v/ent on, laying 


his hand on his great dog's head, "you remember, 
Wolf — of course you do — these lines in Shakespeare's 
Julius Ccesar: 

" ' There is a tide in the affairs of men 

Which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune : 
Omitted, all the voyage of their life 
Is bound in shallows and in miseries.' " 

Again Wolf wagged his tail as if the matter were 
as plain to him as a pikestaff. 

" I'm going straight away over the herring pond, 
Wolf. I don't know yet how I'm going to get there. 
I only know I am going, and you can come too, if 
you're a good dog." 

Wolf jumped up, put a paw on each of Osmond's 
shoulders, and licked his cheek. 

" Very well. Wolf — a bargain's a bargain. Now, 
here is a letter from Kenneth Reid, a very dear Eton 
friend of mine, inviting me to Liverpool to spend a 
few days with him. Wolf, I'm going there, and after 
that we'll trust to something turning up." 

Osmond's parents had no objection to his Liverpool 
trip, though little Eva was very sad. 

He packed his traps that day. 

Ah! little did his mother think when she kissed 
him good-bye next morning, that long eventful years 
must elapse before she would see her boy again, if ever 
she did. 


But as for Eva, coming events seemed to cast their 
shadows before, and she threw her arms around his 
neck and melted into an agony of tears when he came 
to say farewell. 

" 0," she wept, " I shall never, never see my brave 
brother again. I know where you are going, Os — 0, 
I know, I know." 

" Hush, hush, Eva. O, pray don't breathe a word of 
what you think to father, mother, or Dick." 

Her grief almost unmanned Osmond, but he managed 
to tear himself away at last, with a terribly big lump 
in his throat, and more moisture in his eyes than he 
considered it right that a soldier of fortune should 

Kenneth Reid was at the station to meet him, and 
a carriage was w^aiting to drive the two of them away 
to Kenneth's home in the suburbs. 

His welcome here was a very warm one. Kenneth 
was about Osmond's age, but he had many younger 
brothers and sisters, and all were rejoiced to see one 
whom they had heard so much about. 

That very night in their bedroom, Osmond made a 
confidant of Kenneth. 

He commenced by reading to him the whole of 
Henry's heroic letter. 

Then he painted a soldier's life while on the war- 


path, until Kenneth's eyes sparkled and his face glowed 
with excitement. Osmond tired his best shot last. 

"And I'm going out to join, Harry!" he said. 

" You, Osmond, — you, old fellow ! " cried Kenneth. 

" Yes, me," said Os, in beautiful defiance of grammar, 
" me and Wolf there." 

" Have you money? And how will you go, and will 
your parents permit you?" 

" I haven't much money, Kenn. But I have £13, 
12.S. Qd. saved from pocket money. I have a good kit. 
I'll go in the cheapest way I can. I don't care if I 
have to work my passage out. I'll write to my parents 
just before the ship sails, and ask their forgiveness." 

After this and till long past twelve o'clock, Osmond 
continued to tell his friend all about the honour and 
glory attached to a soldier's life. 

"Are you asleep, Kenn?" he said at last. 

" No, old man, only thinking." 

Then Kenneth got up out of his own bed, and ap- 
proached that of Osmonds. 

" Osmond," he said, and he looked very serious as he 
held out his hand, which his friend took in his. 

" Yes, Kenn." 

" Osmond, you're not going alone." 

" No, I'm taking honest Wolf there." 

"Yes, and you're taking me!" 


That night I believe both those boys — well, they 
were little else — slept only to dream of 

battles, sieges, fortunes, 
of most disastrous cbauces. 
Of nioviijg accidents by flood and field, 
Of hair-breadth 'scapes i' the imminent deadly breach. 

Yet, strange to say, when they awoke next morn- 
ing, instead of the sunlight banishing all their ro- 
mances and resolves, it appeared but to confirm them. 

It is due to myself to say, and to say in this very 
place, that I am but the historian of Osmond and his 
friend Kenneth, and that I by no means approve of 
their determination to go abroad in search of adven- 
tures without the consent of their parents. Yet such 
things have been done before, and I greatly fear they 
may be done again. I have only one thing to say on 
their behalf — namely, that the American Civil War 
took great effect on the minds of juvenile Britain. I 
was a boy in those days myself, and well remember it. 

Now, just three days after they had made their 
romantic resolve, Os and Kenn had a kind of an 
adventure down at the docks, where they had taken to 
wander, in order to look at the ships and build castles 
in the air. 

One very large and handsome steamer, lying a little 
way off, and evidently taking in cargo and preparing 
for sea, particularly attracted their attention. She 


was a screw, and was well rigged with tallish iron 
masts, and evidently meant to do a good bit of sailing 
when wind and weather permitted. 

"Look!" said Kenn, who was more of a sailor than 
Osmond. "She has already hoisted the Blue Peter, 
which means, you know, that she will soon sail." 

" That's so," said Osmond. 

" And this is a boat coming from her," continued 
Kenn. " Evidently the captain's. That is he sitting, 
tiller-ropes in hand, in the stern-sheets." 

Presently the boat — a very prettily painted one 
and almost new — rasped alongside of the steps, and 
the officer sprang on shore. He was a tall, powerful- 
looking man of apparently fifty years of age, with a 
sprinkling of gray in his pointed beard. 

" Hullo ! young fellows," he said, as soon as he 
came up the steps. " Excuse me addressing you, but 
I couldn't pass that dog without a word. May I pat 
him? He won't scupper me, will he?" 

" No," said Osmond proudly. " Wolf is very kind, 
but when there is any reason to fight, why he goes at 
it like a steam ram." 

"Ha! ha! ha! Just like an Englishman. Well 
spoken, boy. I like the looks of you as well as your 
dog. Wish I had a score of young fellows like you on 
board the saucy Kathleen O'Mara yonder." 

A sudden thought occurred to Osmond like a flash. 


"Are you going to the States, sir?" he said. 

The olhcer didn't replj^ but he looked Osmond up 
and down. 

" Why do you ask, boy?" 

" We're not boys — we're young men, and I w^ant 
to go to the Southern States to be a soklier, because I 
have cousins there, and Kenneth here is my friend, and 
is coming along for company's sake." 

"Is that true? No tricks? No kid?" 

Osmond's face Hushed with anger. 

" We are gentlemen's sons," he answered, " and we 
would not tell a mean lie to save our lives." 

" Forgive me, boys — forgive me. I am going to my 
lodgings not far from here. Come with me and we'll 
talk it over." 

They were soon all seated together in a cosy room, 
the captain of the Kathleen O'Mara indulging in a 

" Well, now," he said, " I don't like taking you, 
but if I don't some one less respectable may. And I 
would be kind to you. Yonder is my ship — a Britisher, 
and bound, cleared in fact, or nearly so, for the East 
Indies. But if you come with me, not forgetting that 
lovely dog, you shall walk the decks of a ship bound 
for Charleston in less than a fortnight. When can 
you be ready?" 

" When must we?" 


" To-morrow night." 

" We'll be here." 

"Bravo! You're true Britishers. Shake hands with 
Captain Brewer, of the Kathleen O'Mara — and, look 
here, say nothing about this interview to any one." 

Then they talked for half an hour on different sub- 
jects, after which they parted. 

"I say, aren't we lucky?" were the first words that 
Osmond spoke to his friend when once more on the 

" That we are. And now we have only to prepare. 
I have £15." 

"0!" cried Osmond, "I do believe, Kenn, we never 
asked Captain Brewer what our passage money would 

" Well, really no. How stupid! But with one thing 
and another I quite forgot." 

" Never mind," said Osmond, " we'll meet the cap- 
tain and chance it. He seems a decent fellow. We 
will just tell him all, and if he turns us back, why, it 
can't be helped." 

That night they quietly packed their boxes. They 
also wrote letters — long ones — to their parents. Os- 
mond wrote to Eva also. 

Next morning at breakfast they announced their 
intention of running over to spend a few days with a 
friend near New Brighton. 

( M lS-2 ) E 


Alas! that heroes of mine should ever tell a fib — 
even a little white one. Just for the time being I am 
a trifle ashamed of them. 

But the letters they wrote went some way towards 
making amends, and I hope their future conduct as 
soldiers of fortune will not be such as shall cast a slur 
upon the proud name of Englishman. 



IT was late before Osmond and his friend Kenneth 
got on board, but soon afterwards the Kathleen 
O'Mara slipped away from her moorings and began 
working seaward. 

The night was beautifully clear, with a bit of a 
breeze blowing straight in from the west, and a bright, 
round moon fio-htino- aloft with little clouds that ever 
and anon tried to obscure her silvery disc, but seemed 
to melt away as they touched her. 

Osmond and Kenneth were both on the quarter- 
deck, and the captain was on the bridge, but as soon 
as he had put things a bit straight, and had finished 
piping orders down to the engine-room, he came below. 

He approached the young men — as they chose to be 
considered — laughing and rubbing his hands 


"Look here, lads," he said, "you're enjoying the 
moonshine, I reckon." 

" It really is a goodly sight, as Byron would have 
said," This from Osmond. "That moon, sir, sailing 
through the snow-white clouds." 

"O, bother the moon!" interrupted Captain Brewer. 
" She's a fraud. You must know that I always under- 
stood she was made of green cheese. Well, young sir, 
being at Greenwich last summer, I had the chance of a 
peep through a big Observatory spy-glass, 'Shall I 
turn her on to Jupiter or Sirius?' said the boss-in- 
waiting. ' Jupiter and Sirius be blowed!' says I; 'turn 
her on to the moon; I want to see for myself if she is 
made of green cheese.' Well, young friends, I had a 
look accordingly," 

"And was it green cheese?" said Osmond laughing, 

" No, sir, not a bit of it. It was Gruyere, right 
enough, I saw the holes ^ as plain as you please, sure 
as I'm a living soul and my name's Ben Brewer. 

" But come, lads," he continued, " I didn't drop down 
from the bridge to teach you astronomy, but to warn 
you to turn in, Osmond, I know you are a poet by 
the build o' your figure-head, nevertheless I assure 
you that Father Neptune doesn't respect even poetry 
and romance. Soon's we open out a sea-way, and that 

1 The surface of the moon is indented with what appears to be the open- 
ings of extinct volcanoes. 


won't be long with this wind, it'll be a bit choppy, and 
then — well, you had better turn in. I'll give you half 
an hour to chat with my wife and little daughter; 
you'll find them below, then you'll bunk up. Hear?" 

" Yes," said Osmond, " but I had no idea there were 
ladies on board. And we haven't any dress clothes, 
have we, Kenn?" 

"Never a stitch!" 

"Ha, ha!" laughed the jolly skipper. "I knew I'd 
take the wind out of your trysails, and bring your 
square sails all a-shiver. But keep your minds easy, 
boys. We don't dress for dinner on board the bold 
Kathleen O'Mara. Down below with you. Off you 

The saloon was a very beautiful room indeed, 
though by no means large, and most tastefully fur- 
nished with mirrors, flowers in vases, and curtains; it 
looked as much like a lady's boudoir as anything else. 

Mrs. Brewer, book in hand, was reclining on a sofa, 
but she raised herself and gave the boys, who looked 
a little shy, a smiling and kindly welcome. 

Osmond noticed that she was beautiful, with soft 
dark eyes, red full lips, and teeth like pearls. Not at 
all old looking, although, strange to say, her hair was 
as white as snow or nearly so. 

"Mrs. Brewer, I — " began Osmond, and then stuck 


" Mrs. Brewer, I — " began Kenneth, but he stuck 
fast also, and blushed a little, as innocent boys will 

Mrs. Brewer laucrhecl a silvery laugh. 

"You didn't expect to meet ladies on board?" she 

" No, really I— I— 1_" 

" Let me introduce you to my daughter, an^'how." 

She waved her hand as she spoke. 

The boys looked round. 

Sitting on a big easy rocking-chair, with her legs 
drawn up like a kangaroo's, was a very pretty child 
some twelve summers' old. Yes, I must say summers; 
winters could have had nothing to do with Lucy 
Brewer's life, surely. 

Her long hair — very long and straight it was — 
hung carelessly on her shoulders, and her eyelashes 
swept her cheeks as she looked down to carefully fold 
a leaf in her book before she shut it. Then she turned 
lier large Spanish-like eyes first on Osmond, then on 
Kenneth, — so coolly too! 

" Boys," she said, and she looked as wise as a little 
old woman — " boys, you don't look over happy, either 
of you. Now just take stools right away and sit down 
as close to the fire and me as you can get without 
fighting about us. I can make you both feel at home 
in less than no time. Dr. Peter Podophyllon has got 


to murder old Miss Wanlaoe before Mother moves off 
that sofa. So she won't he in the ring to-night." 

" Murder?" said Osmond. " I don't understand." 

" O, you funny boy ! But, there, don't look so 
scared. It's in the story-book she is reading." 

" Now I understand." 

Osmond was about to sit down when with one 
bound Lucy sprang off the chair, leaving it swinging 
to and fro. She darted past the boys, and next 
moment was kneeling beside great Wolf, — who had 
just looked in, — with both her arms around his neck 
and her cheek to his ear. 

"Oh, what a darling!" she cried. "I declare the 
tears have come to my eyes. This is the dog Father 
told me about. 0, Mother, look! 

"Now, boys, make room for Wolf on the bear's 
skin. I hereby install him as first favourite on board 
the brave ship Kathleen O'Mara." 

And so this strange child rattled on for fully five 
minutes in a way that would have astonished, perhaps 
even shocked, the British Mrs. Grundy. But never- 
theless, both Osmond and Kenneth soon found them- 
selves perfectly at home. The time flew very quickly 


The black steward came in all too soon, Osmond 
thought, to say that the lamp was lit in their state- 


So they took the hint, said good-night somewhat 
reluctantly and retired, Wolf following close at their 

Fires were banked, and the Kathleen O'Mara went 
staggering down the Irish Channel on a beam wind. 
The sea was choppy or lumpy, and the breeze so high 
that it quite blew the wave tops off, and sent them 
flying inboard like spray from a cataract, as high as 
the top of the funnel itself. 

Osmond and Kenneth had not forgotten to bring 
oilskins with them, and natty little sou- westers. They 
were on deck next morning, before breakfast, with 
Wolf, but, truth to tell, neither had very much appetite. 
They determined to fight Mr. Mai de Mer ^, however, 
and this is really the only way to get clear of tlie 
gentleman. Just bounce him, and he'll be bounced. 
Give in to him, and he'll stick to you like a thistle- 
burr to a Highland plaid. Wolf didn't know what to 
make of the situation; he went flopping and walloping 
about in the most uncouth and wondrous fashion, but 
when the sailors laughed at him, Wolf laughed too, 
and he had a splendid big mouth. When he smiled 
the smile seemed to extend all the way down to his 
tail. This was more apparent than real. 

By and by Lucy came up. She was arrayed in a 
very pretty ulster and sailor's hat, and as she looked 

1 Sea-sickness. 


a little subdued Osmond thought the child must 
be ill. 

He lifted his hat and hoped she was not. As he did 
so the ship gave a lurch that landed him on all-fours 
in the lee scuppers. Then Lucy laughed, till the 
binnacle seemed to ring. 

" Oh, no," she answered, " I'm not ill. I'm a regular 
old sailor. But, poor boys, you both look pale. Oh, 
I know what will make us all happy." 



The black steward came up just then and rang a 
big bell, and the quarter-deck people went below at once. 

Wolf went too. 

But for the fact that the cups and saucers and delf 
generally were rather fidgetty, the breakfast was a 
most comfortable one, and everybody seemed to do 
justice to it. When it was over. Captain Brewer lit 
his cigar, and beckoned Osmond and Kenneth to 
follow him. He led the way into an after cabin or 
office, where a tall, raw-boned man was seated with a 
slate on his knee working out a sum of some sort. So 
thought Osmond, but it really was the reckoning. 

" My mate," said Captain Brewer, and the mate re- 
turned the boys' salute. 

" Be seated, lads, and we'll talk. Osmond, I know 
you want to ask soine questions." 


" Yes, I do," said Os promptly. 

" Well, heave round." 

" We want to know how much our passage money 
will be. We are poor, and should like to work it." 

"Passage money? Eh? Why, boys, I and the 
Southern States will be in your debt very much in- 
deed. So consider yourselves our guests." 

" A thousand thanks. Kenneth, aren't we in luck ? " 

" That we are," said Kenn. 

" Now, sir, one other question. We shall indeed be 
sorry to leave this ship, but we should like to know 
where and when we are to meet the Confederate 

" Look h6re, lad, this is the Kathleen O'Mara, and 
she is loaded with the munitions of war. We touch 
first at Nassau, and there you will soon find yourselves 
on board the good ship Mosquito, bound across the 
herring-pond for Charleston harbour, where we hope 
to land you safe and sound. Meanwhile, keep your 
mind easy about parting. We like you; and, beli-eve 
me, lads, the we includes my wife and Lucy both. 
Ah ! there isn't much to beat an Englishman, after all. 
But how do you like the looks of our crew?" 

" I'd rather not say." 

The mate looked up and laughed. 

" Well," said Os, " with a few exceptions they're 
a cut-throat looking lot," 


" Never mind ; they are only twenty-two. We were 
obliged to take Spaniards, Italians, and Finns, just 
dock refuse; only, among them there are three good 
Englishmen and one brave and brawny Scot." 

In good time the steamer made the port of Nassau, 
and here additional cargo, in the shape of rifles, was 
taken on board. Quite a large consignment of 

Osmond looked in vain for the Mosquito. But on 
the third day, and a short time before sailing, all 
hands were called aft. 

"Is steam up?" said Captain Brewer, addressing the 
assistant engineer. 

" Yes, sir." 

" Then go ahead." 

The vessel under the mate's pilotage began at once 
to forge ahead. 

"They'd have fleet steeds that would follow," said 
Brewer, waving his hand shorewards. 

Almost at the same moment up from the saloon 
came Lucy herself. She was dressed all in white, 
with flowers in her hair, and looked, as Kenneth after- 
wards told Osmond, as pretty as a pantomime. 

She bowed to all with perfect sang froid, then, with 
her father's assistance, she mounted on top of the sky- 
light, while her mother handed her a little bottle of 



She lifted this high in the air, while in her childish 
treble she spoke as follows: — 

"/ re-baptize this good ship the Mosquito" here she 
dashed the bottle on deck. It was port, and the stream 
that flowed leeward from the centre of the deck 
Osmond could not help thinking was very like blood. 
Little did he think, however, that the snowy whiteness 
of those timbers was before long to be stained with 
real blood. 

" Men," continued the child, raising her voice, " you 
are now in the service of the Confederate States of 
America, and we trust you will serve your new 
country right loyally and faithfully. Up with the 
bonnie blue flag. Hurray!" 

Up went the flag in a ball that broke prettily at the 
gaff and went floating out in the breeze, while at the 
same time a gun was fired. Everybody joined that 
cheer, repeating it again and again. 

Then Lucy leapt down, and Osmond hastened to 
congratulate her, telling her how charmingly she had 
spoken, and how pretty she looked. 

Lucy did not seem to pay much attention, but went 
ofl" romping along the deck with Wolf. 

It is needless to say that Captain Brewer at once 
ordered the black steward to splice the main brace. 

That very afternoon the Mosquito showed her teeth, 
for two Dahlgren guns were mounted on the quarter- 


deck and a very large pivot gun forward. Aininuni- 
tion too was got up, and it was evident to our heroes 
that if any Northern privateer ventured to chase them 
the Mosquito might run away, but even while running 
she would sing a song that would considerably startle 
the Yankees, or at all events astonish them. 

The good ship Mosquito — the name was already 
painted on her bows, and on her boats and life-buoys 
— now stood straight away across the Atlantic, keep- 
ing well to the south, however, for the captain had 
no wish to meet many ships, whatever they might 

Even the Confederate flag, having done its duty and 
asserted itself, was once more furled, and everybody 
on board appeared to settle down to the ordinary 
quiet routine of ship life. A good look-out, however, 
was kept both night and day, and whenever a strange 
sail was seen, she was scrutinized most anxiously, and 
if she looked at all suspicious, orders were given to 
give her a wide berth. 

Meanwhile, our young soldiers of fortune found life 
on board very pleasant indeed. Lucy made no secret 
of her partiality for Osmond and Wolf. She was 
altogether very innocent and naive, this child of the 
Southern States; and yet she had the queerest ways 
with her and said very droll things at times. It has 
always appeared to me that an American girl of only 


seven knows as much and is quite as clever as an 
English or Scotch lassie of fifteen. 

After a spell of silence, quite unusual for Lucy, she 
one day said to Osmond, who was reading The Lady 
of the Lake to her on the quarter-deck: 

" I should like so much to know Eva, your sister." 

"Why, Lucy?" 

"Because I envy her so. Oh, shouldn't I like to 
have you for a brother! You are so handsome, and 
I'm sure you're brave. Only," she added after a pause, 
while a far-away dreamy kind of look came into her 
eyes, "who knows, but that when I grow up you 
may take it into your head to marry me; and I'm sure 
a husband is "even nicer than a big brother. But read 
on, Osmond, where were you? Oh, yes, I remember, 
and I'm sure so does Wolf — 

" ' Oh ! still I've worn 
This little tress of yellow hair, 
Thi'o' danger, frenzy and despair ! 
It once was bright and clear as thine, 
But blood and tears have dimmed its shine.' 

" Read on, Osmond. Read on." 




T^OR a whole week the voyage of the Mosquito was 
-*- quite idyllic. 

So, at all events, our romantic Osmond considered 
it; while Kenneth himself appeared to be almost as 
happy as the day was long. Wolf spent most of his 
time romping up and down the deck, and retrieving 
belaying-pins thrown for him by some of the hands, 
or sunning himself on the weather-side of the quarter- 

Strangely enough. Wolf had his favourites among 
the men, and they were chiefly the men whom Osmond 
himself liked and felt he could trust. Dogs are indeed 
readers of character, and they seldom if ever make a 

The weather continued to be all that a sailor's heart 
could desire. Hitherto it had been unnecessary to get 
up steam since the day the good ship left Nassau. A 
spanking breeze blew some points abaft the beam, the 
sky was clear and blue, and the sunshine laughed in 
every rippling wave. 

It would be wrong to say that Osmond and Kenneth 
did not let thoughts of home intervene at times to mar 
their happiness. They often spoke of those they had left 


behind, and who perhaps still movirned their strange 
departure. But they assured themselves, and told each 
other it was all for the best, and it would all come 
right in the long run. 

Youth, you see, is ever hopeful. 

One night, about eight days after the Mosquito had 
lost sight of land, and shortly after Lucy and her 
maid — a faithful little black lass — had gone to their 
cabin, Osmond was coming along the main deck from 
forward. He was threading his way through a dimly- 
lighted passage between the ship's side and the boxed- 
up engines, and got midships, when he heard his name 
called, the voice coming from above his head. 

Here was a cabin, Lucy's in fact, though Os had 
never known of its whereabouts before. 

He looked up, and lo! there was Lucy herself lean- 
ing head and shoulders over a kind of port, that 
opened into the passage. She was in her night-dress, 
and laughing right merrily. 

"This is my cabin and nursie's, you know. She 
sleeps in the bunk right below me. 

" I cannot ask you in," she continued, with innocent 
politeness, "because I'm in bed, you know; but oh, 
Osmond! wouldn't it be jolly to do Romeo and Juliet 
just here. The balcony scene, you know. I remember 
most of it, don't you?" 



" A little, I think," said Osmond, smiling. 
" Well, I'm Juliet, and I've just called you back like 






Eomeo ! 

(Osmozid.) My dear ! 

I have forgot why I did call thee back. 

Let me stand here till thou remember it. 

I shall forget, to have thee still stand tliere, 

Remembering how I love thy company. 

And I'll still stay, to have thee still forget, 

Forgetting any other home but this. 

'Tis almost morning ; I would have thee gone : — 

And yet no farther than a child's pet bird, 

Who lets it hop a little from her hand, 

And with a silk thread plucks it back again. 

So loving-jealous of his liberty. 

I would I were thy bird. 

Sweet, so would I : 
Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing ; 
Good-night, good-night ! Parting is such sweet sorrow, 
That I shall say good-night till it be morrow. 
Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast ! 

How much more Osmond might have said may 
never be known, for within Lucy's cabin a voice was 
now heard uttering words that I have never read in 
any edition of Shakespeare. 

" You naughty chile ! Lie down and sleep this 
momen', else I go plenty quick dileckly and tell you 
raodder! Lie down, chile!" 

Lucy disappeared so speedily that it amounted to a 


sudden withdrawal of the play, and so the scene 

Rovieo and Juliet is a love drama, but an actual 
tragedy was to be enacted on board ere morning light 
— woe in my heart that I should have to speak of it! 

When a boy, on reading of massacres and mutinies 
which had taken place long ago, I have sometimes 
asked my tutor, " Could these things happen now- 
adays, sir?" 

" Oh, no!" he used to reply, "the world is far better 
and far wiser in our day." 

But many a time and oft since then have I come to 
the conclusion that though our laws are more numer- 
ous and more stringent, the human heart is quite the 
same, and human passions only require to be let loose 
to make many murders possible, and that massacres 
and atrocities on a far greater scale, and even more 
devilishly cruel than any that have ever occurred in 
the middle ages may take place, even in this year of 
grace, eighteen hundred and ninety-five. 

Now there is, it seems to me, a Providence that 
watches over tliose who trust therein. At all events, 
men, whatever they may propose, appear to be under 
the dispensation of God. 'Tis He who fixes our 

Osmond had reached his own cabin, and found that 

( M lu2 ) F 


Kenneth had ah^eady turned in. He had nearly un- 
dressed when he found that he had dropped a small 
trinket from the end of his watch-chain. It was of 
no great worth, but he valued it very much, because it 
had been Eva's gift to him on his last birthday. 

He told Kenn of the loss, adding — 

" I remember playing with it as I talked the balcony 
scene with Lucy. I'll run back and see if I can't find 
it. I shall put on my coat of darkness and my shoes 
of silence," he added lauMiinof, as he drew on a brown 
dressing-gown and a pair of list slippers. 

He walked very gently and softly, lest he should 
disturb Lucy. He soon arrived beneath the balcony, 
as he called it in his own mind, and, bending down, 
felt around, for the light was now extinguished in the 

Yes, here it was, all safe and whole. How lucky! 
he thought, and was just about to retire when the 
sound of low voices fell upon his ear. They came from 
two figures he scarce could see, and who were standing 
well forward ; but as the speakers were well known to 
him as two of the worst men in the ship, one a Finn, 
the other a hulking black-browed Italian, he thought 
himself justified in trying to listen. 

He crept nearer to them, hugging the bulkhead of 
the passage as he did so. 

Their backs were towards him, and this was fortun- 


ate, for doubtless the fellows were armed, and the knife 
between his ribs would have been Osmond's portion 
had he been discovered. 

" Der iz no time like de prizent." It was the Finn 
who spoke. " Ha, Antonio, if faint-hearted you iz, I 
zay — bah!" 

" And it is ol ready you are ? " said the Italian. 

"Reddy? Yez, we iz all reddy. We iz vivteen 
(fifteen) men to seven. Ha, ha, victory iz ours, zure 

" Den I veel come too. It ees not murder." 

" No, we takes ze ship from our enemies. We takes 
her in ze name of ze Federal navy. Ha, ha! We kills 
men, p'raps. • Bah! again I zay it iz but in fight. No, 
Antonio, it iz not murder, it iz war. 

" First," he added, " we kills ze tree Englishmans 
and ze ugly Scot." 

"Bravo! And de time and place?" 

" Four bells, ze middle watch. Voxle head." 

Osmond started. 

How nearly that start was to being his last! 

He dropped Eva's charm. 

He dared not stoop after it, but hugged the bulk- 
head more closely, and stood there trembling. 

" Hark ! I heard von zound." 

" No, no," said Antonio, " it was but de little one 
stirring in bed. She you veel not slay?" 


" Bah ! Come, Antonio. Come, in two hour we go 
on ze deck. Let uz sleep." 

"Wretches!" thought Osmond, "who can go quietly 
to sleep and awake but to commit foul murder." 

He waited until the coast was clear, then glided 
silently aft once more, not, however, before he had 
stooped again and picked up his little sister's keep- 
sake, which he would ever more look upon as indeed 
a charm. 

He dropped into his own cabin first, and in whispers 
told Kenneth about his discovery and the projected 

He next sought out the captain. Luckily he had 
not yet turned in, but sat in the saloon smok- 

"The cut-throat villains!" said Captain Brewer. 
" It is easy to see what they mean. They want to 
seize the ship and take her as a prize to New York, 
hoping to receive a great reward. I will hang them 
at the yard-arm!" 

"We will have to catch them first, won't we, sir?" 
said Osmond quietly. 

"Yes, and catch them in the act. Thank God, we 
shall be prepared." 

At first Captain Brewer thought it would be best 
to make the Finn and Antonio prisoners at once, but 
this plan was given up as unpractical. They thought 


of another, and this other was carried out to the 

By and by, therefore, Osmond bade the captain 
good-night, and retired to his own cabin. He put out 
the light, and soon after Brewer himself rang for the 
steward. While telling him quietly to extinguish the 
lights, he managed at the same time to give him an 
inkling of the state of affairs, and hinted also where 
he would find revolvers and cartridges. 

Soon after the middle watch — in which were the 
principal mutineers — was called, all was silent on deck 
save the steady tramp, tramp of the men on duty. 

The three Englishmen and the Scotchman had 
turned in. As they were respectable, faithful fellows, 
the captain had given them a cabin to themselves, for 
they did not care to mix with the common herd. 

And now Brewer went creeping forward himself, and 
entered Lucy's cabin. He was successful in waking 
the nurse without frightening her. 

He quickly told her of the coming mutiny, and bade 
her follow him. He lifted Lucy up and bore her aft, 
placing her in the cabin beside her mother. The poor 
child did not once awake. 

The next thing was to arouse and bring aft the 

This the steward — big Sambo — undertook to do. 
Meanwhile, fully armed and prepared for either battle 


or siege, the captain, with Osmond and Kenneth, 
waited anxiously in the dark saloon. If they spoke 
at all, it was but in whispers. 

But how very anxiously they listened now, near the 
doorway, for Sambo's signal. 

Luckily it had come on to blow a little, and the 
watch on deck were shortening sail. Yet, doubtless, 
a watch was being kept below, and, if in awakening 
the Englishmen the slightest noise was made, matters 
would doubtless be precipitated with a terribly fatal 

What a long, long time Sambo seemed absent! 
Would he never, never come ! Hark ! though, there is 
a gentle tapping with nails on the saloon door, a pass- 
word is whispered, and Sambo enters. 

" Yes, sah," he whispers, " all heali, sah, and de two 
injuneers too, Massa." 

"Good, Sambo; I won't forget you." 

They were now twelve in all, including the mate, 
and the mutineers, with two stowaways and the cook, 
would number about twenty. 

The odds were heavy, for those cut-throat fellows 
were desperadoes of the worst water. They would be 
fighting, too, with the rope around their necks, and 
doubtless it would be a hard and hand-to-hand tussle, 
a fight to the very knife's hilt. 

It wanted still an hour to the time of rendezvous, 


and to facilitate their plans the mutineers had evi- 
dently made the ship very snug by taking in all 
necessary sail. 

It had just gone two bells. 

"Another weary hour to wait!" whispered Osmond 
to Kenneth. "My heart is beating muffled drums. 
Are you afraid?" 

" Yes, I am anxious." 

Hardly had he spoken before a wild shout arose 
near to the fo'c's'le-head. It was evident that the 
fellows had missed the Englishmen, and thus found 
out that their plans were discovered. 

The noise and the shouting came aft and aft and 
aft. Now footsteps are heard running overhead and 
descending the saloon companion. 

"Surrender! Bail up!" 

That is the command as the butt-ends of rifles 
thunder at the barricaded door. 

A volley aimed at the door by those within changes 
the aspect of matters somewhat. One man is heard 
to fall. The others, with terrible threats and curses, 
draw off. 

The saloon has at each side of it a doorway. One 
is the first mate's cabin — the second mate is a 
mutineer — the other is the office, and a third door 
leads to the store-room. The captain quickly passes 
the word to take possession of these rooms. 


None too soon. For a volley is quickly fired in 
through the skylight, which has been hastily thrown 
open; a most unlucky thing for the mutineers, for the 
moon has arisen, and their heads can be seen. 

No one below is hurt, and they need no command 
to cause them to return the fire. Rack-rack-rack-rack 
ffo the revolvers, like the noise a rent and riven 
mainsail makes in a gale of wind. 

More than one mutineer is killed, and, horrible to 
relate, hangs dead over the skylight. 

The silence that follows is broken only by the 
groans of the wounded on deck, and by the patter of 
blood on the saloon table coming from the corpses 
hansino- above. 

What would have been the next move of the 
mutineers I cannot pretend to say, for something now 
occurred which was altogether unlooked for. 

The boys' cabin or state-room was just outside the 
saloon and forward from the mates', with only a bulk- 
head between, and it would seem that some of the 
would-be murderers had intended entering this in 
order to fire through the bulk-head. 

Little did they know how it was guarded. For 
brave Wolf had been forgotten, and was the sole occu- 
pant of the state-room. 

As soon as Osmond heard the wild and frightened 
shouts of the men and awful "habberino;" noise of 


Wolf, who had evidently seized a man by the throat, 
" Oh, my dog, my dog!" he cried. 

" Kill him! kill the beast!" shouted the mutineers. 

There was now the sharp ringing of revolvers, but 
Wolf's "habbering" still went on, though in the midst 
of it the poor dog had uttered a half-smothered cry 
of pain. 

" They're killing my dog!" cried Osmond now. " I'll 
save Wolf or die ! " He seized a lantern that had been 
darkened, turned the light on the door, undid the 
fastenino's, and, sword in hand, rushed out. 

All this took but a few seconds. 

"Hurrah, men!" shouted the captain. "Now for 
the charge! Sambo, hold up the other light!" 

Sambo did as he was told, and so determined was 
the rush now made that the mutineers broke at once, 
and fled on deck, pursued by the captain and his 

The foe rushed forward, but stopped when about 
midships and fired a volley. 

Alas! the head engineer dropped dead at Brewer's 
feet, and Osmond himself fell, shot through the 

The volley was returned with good-will neverthe- 
less, and the shrieks forward told that it had taken 

Next moment big Sambo with a capstan-bar was 


laying around him like a giant, and more than one 
man fell beneath his blows. 

"We surrender! We surrender!" This was now 
their cry. 

" Lay down your arms then. Ill hang the first man 
that dares to move a muscle after I say one, two, 

" One, two, three." 

Rifles and revolvers fell rattling on the deck, and 
in ten minutes' time all the mutineers not killed or 
wounded were securely bound hand and foot. 

When daylight appeared, a census was taken, and 
it was found that no less than five of the enemy, 
including the second engineer, were killed, and three 

The engineer was the only one killed among the de- 
fenders, but one Englishman was so seriously wounded 
that he died before night. The two other Englishmen, 
with Sambo and poor Osmond, to say nothing of 
honest Wolf, who had a bullet wound in his leg, made 
up the list. 

The unwounded prisoners were set free as far as 
their legs were concerned, and led aft. 

" Now, men," said Captain Brewer sternly, " you can 
see that your game is up." 

" We do. We do." 

"Well, you can have your choice. I will either 


permit you to return to duty, and give you up when 
we reach Charleston, or hang you now, one and all." 

" Let us go to duty. Let us go to duty." 

" Yez," cried the Finn, " zat iz bezt." 

Captain Brewer promised furthermore that if they 
were faithful and obeyed every command, they should 
be leniently dealt with by the Confederates at Charles- 

"And now," he continued sternly, as he turned to 
the first mate — the second mate was dead — " the ship 
will not be safe while those two men are alive." 

He pointed to the Finn and the Italian as he spoke. 

" Let the others free and let them at once reeve 
block and tackle to the main-yard arm and hang these 

In spite of their pleading cries for mercy, in less 
than twenty minutes' time the unhappy wretches 
were swinging dead in the cool morning air. 



OSMOND'S wound, though a very painful one, was 
not dangerous. 
It threw him on his beam-ends for a time, however. 


Yet many a young fellow, I believe, would go through 
as much to be so tenderly nursed and cared for as he 
was, both by Mrs. Brewer and gentle Lucy. 

And Lucy had another patient, namely Wolf. The 
captain had managed to extract the bullet from his 
thigh, an operation to which he had submitted quietly. 

Steam was now got up, for the ship, owing to the 
deaths in the mutiny, was somewhat short-handed for 

Kenneth volunteered to do what he could, and a 
very able assistant engineer he made. 

There was no attempt to renew the mutiny, and so, 
fine weather continuing, in due time they found them- 
selves within a measurable distance of Charleston. 

They had to be doubly on their guard now, for 
Yankee cruisers were plentiful enough in these waters, 
watching the connnerce of the Southern States. 

When not in his friend Osmond's state-room, Kenneth 
Reid was very frequently with Captain Brewer, either 
walking the bridge or on the quarter-deck, and very 
much indeed did the lad enjoy his conversation and the 
yarns he used to spin. Brew^er was exceedingly good- 
natured and kind-hearted, and had taken a great fancy 
for Kenneth and Osmond, as well as for Wolf. 

Wolf reciprocated the skipper's affection, and seemed 
to be quite content to walk steadily alongside of him 
for a whole hour at a time. Bie-, brave men are often 


quite childish in some little matters, and AYolf's 
evident attachment to Captain Brewer pleased the 
latter very much. 

More than once he stooped down — he had not very- 
far to stoop — to pat the dog's great head, and with 
moisture in his eyes said to Kenneth: 

" The poor fellow does love me, you see, and I can 
assure you it will be a sad day for me when I have to 
part with him." 

Brewer told Kenneth among other things about all 
his escapades with the Yankee cruisers and his running 
the blockade. 

Although I have called them yarns,^ I must tell you 
that all the captain's stories were from the life. Sailors, 
as a rule, if they have been long at sea have no need 
to fall back upon fiction. They have only to describe 
the adventures they have taken part in, and these will 
take them long, long years to tell. 

" Well, sir," said Kenneth one day, about a week 
after the fearful mutiny, " do you think you will run 
much danger or risk in getting into Charleston?" 

" To tell you the truth, dear boy, I am not going to 
take much risk. Not that I should mind it a great 
deal, but my orders are to avoid danger, because, j'ou 

1 The word " Yarn " is generally supposed, by landsmen and " long-shore 
lubbers" to mean a fictitious tale. It is not necessarily so; indeed, when 
sailors at sea are "yarning" they usually are but describing events in 
their lives just as they hn})pened. 


see, our cargo is so precious that i£ captured the loss to 
my side and the gain to the Federals would be almost 

" But, sir, if I am to believe what I read in our 
English newspapers, the Federals have no fleet at all 
worth a cent." 

" Then you'd better not believe your English news- 
papers. I wouldn't of course discredit a statement 
simply because I found it in a newspaper, but in this 
case they've gone a little astray. 

" When the war broke out, or sometime before it, 
the Federals had no home navy at all, unless you con- 
sider that the steamer Brooldyn, of twenty-five guns' 
and a store ship or two, constituted a navy. But, my 
young friend, you never know what you can do till 
you try. Stand and look at the wheel and you'll 
never alter the ship's head a single point; put your 
shoulder to the wheel, and round she goes, and round 
goes the ship's head as well. I cannot tell you exactly 
how many ships the Northerners had, or were supposed 
to have, when war actually commenced, — perhaps forty; 
but all in foreign parts. I'll give the Yankees their 
due, however. They are a smart people, and have set 
to work with a will, so that now they must have a 
navy of at least a hundred and twenty ships afloat." 


" Yes, lad, already. And they are going to blockade 


all our ports in the South, so that they may starve us 
- — they never can lick us." 

" Well, I should be sorry," said Kenneth. 

"I know you would. You and your brave com- 
panion, whom may God soon restore to health, have 
thrown in your lots with us, and I know you will 
fight with vim for the country of your adoption." 

" Below there!" 

It was a shout from the main-mast cross-trees. 

" A sail in soight, sorr." 

The captain grasped the bridge railing and looked 

" What do you make of her, Paddy?" 

" Sorra a bit av me knows, sorr." 

"What does she look like, anyhow?" 

" Sure I can't tell at all, at all, for though she's in 
soight, sorr, she ain't visible." 

" Then how in all the world," roared Captain Brewer, 
" do you know there is a ship there at all?" 

" A long line of durty smoke along the blue say, 

The captain went aloft himself now. 

In twenty minutes he came below and gave orders 
for the course to be altered at once. So instead of 
being steered west, the Mosquito was soon heading 
away south-south-west. 

"Could you make her out, sir?" ventured Kenneth. 


" Eh! Wliat, my boy — make her out, did you say?" 
There was a dark cloud on Captain Brewer's brow. 
" Yes, indeed, I've been chased by her before. She is 
the Delaware frigate of thirty guns, and can steam 
two knots an hour more than we can. Ay, and she'll 
make it three knots more, if she burns all the pork 
she has on board." 

"You think, sir, — you tliink she'll capture us?" 

" I think it is all up with our chance of Charleston. 
I shall now make for Port Pickens in Florida. But if 
it doesn't come on to blow, I guess we'll see New York 
first. If I see I am to be taken, I'll pitch every gun 
overboard first, even if they hang me afterwards." 

Kenneth went below now to the engine-room, to see 
if he could be of service. 

" No, min," said the Scotch engineer, " I'll keep the 
watches mysel' till the cruise is a' ower. Thank ye, 
though, a' the same." 

Then Kenneth went to Osmond's state-room. 

His friend was pale, but made no complaint, and the 
cliild Lucy sat on a chair near the port reading aloud 
to him, with Wolf at her feet on a skin. 

" Shall I leave the room?" she asked. 

" No, my dear, no. I only came to tell Osmond the 
wonderful news. We're bound for the south, Os, my 
boy. There will be no Charleston, but there maj^ 
be a New York. We'i-e l)eing chased by tlie frigate 


Delaivare. I hope I haven't frightened your patient, 

Osmond made answer. 

"I'm not much worth at frightening," he said, smiling, 
" but your news is stirring. Oh, shouldn't I like to get 
on deck, just!" 

" But don't think of it." 

" Oh," said Lucy, with the air of quite an elderly 
person, "I should require to be consulted first!" 

" Well," said Kenneth, " I shouldn't mind having a 
bullet skate all round ray ribs to have such a pretty 
and careful nurse. By- bye; I'll report from time to 
time. Don't be scared if you hear a gun or two." 

And off went Kenneth. 

The excitement fore and aft was now intense, for in 
less than an hour it was pretty evident to everyone on 
board that the Delaware was coming up hand over 

There wasn't a cloud in the sky that afternoon. The 
sun blazed from a dry, hot, milk-white sky, and there 
was an oily gloss on the calm, heaving sea that told 
Brewer plainly there was little chance of wind. He 
would have thanked God, as he looked around him, 
could he have seen the smallest catspaw on that leaden 
ocean surface. But not a breath blew, and the smoke 
from the funnel lay low on the waves, as if it had been 
a huge coil of rope laid there and left. 

( M 132 ) G 


Kenneth had returned to the bridge; Captain Brewer 
was pacing to and fro, still with lowered brows and an 
expression of anxiety on his face. 

Kenneth did not dare to address him. 

Presently, however, the captain stopped abruptly, 
and took firm hold of Kenn's arm. He was smiling, 
but somewhat grimly. 

" It is very good of you not to speak to me," he said, 
"although I know you are burning to ask me if I 
mean to fight. The answer is 'Yes'; I'll fight when 
I've finished running away. But listen; I have another 
cause of anxiety." 

"And that is, sir?" 

" The mutineers, or the men who were mutineers, 
and may be again when the push comes. You see it 
would be far more satisfactory for them to fall into 
the hands of the Federals than the Confederates." 

"True, sir, true." 

" Yes; well, I have reasoned out the whole matter in 
my own mind, and I mean to have a turn at diplomacy. 
The safety of the ship compels me." 

"Call all hands!" he shouted to the officer on 

As soon as all the men had come on deck, Captain 
Brewer took a note- book from his pocket, and leaning 
over the rail of the bridge told them to lay aft. 

Then he addressed them in that very straight style 


of language for which I have always given the Ameri- 
cans the greatest praise. 

" Men," he said, " I have in this note-book the names 
of seven of you who were taken red-handed in the ter- 
rible mutiny on board this ship. I had meant to give 
them up to justice when I reached a southern port, with, 
however, a recommendation to mercy. But I cannot 
forget that, since the mutiny, they have returned to duty 
and done their duty well. I am, therefore, inclined to 
forgive them, and not give them up at all. We are 
now being chased by a Yankee frigate, and very likely 
to be captured, but I'm going to fight after I've done 
running away. It is my duty to resist, though I don't 
expect to reap any advantage from it. I'm making 
you this speech because I have not a doubt the men 
whose names are here inscribed imagine they would 
be more leniently dealt with for their participation in 
the mutiny by the Feds than the Confeds. They 
would not be — I could see to it they wouldn't. Now, 
I offer them terms. If they work with a will till the 
chase or battle ends either way, I shall never mention 
mutiny to them again. They shall go scot-free whether 
we win or lose; but, on the other hand, any man or 
men I find attempting to hamper the movements of 
the ship, or remiss in duty, shall be shot through both 
shoulders and thrown overboard to feed Brer Shark. 
Now choose!" 


One man only stepped out. 

" Sir," he said sternly, " may I come upon the 
bridge for one minute?" 

The captain looked at him narrowly. 

" Yes, you may come," he replied. 

He was a bold and daring-looking man, very tall, 
and rather handsome than otherwise. 

He scrambled up the ladder and advanced with 
a defiant swing to the place where Captain Brewer 

Kenneth was behind the captain, and his hand stole 
round to his revolver pocket. But Brewer never 
moved a finger. 

And now the two men stood within a yard of each 
other, eye to eye and foot to foot. 

Thus they stood for ten long seconds at least. 

" I'm Jim Jackson," said the giant. " I never told a 
cowardly lie even to screen a pal, and I never went 
back on my word. I'm here. Captain Brewer, with 
the consent of my mates, to tell you that we respects 
you, and that we'll run from the Feds, or we'll fight 
them, but that we are with you, sir, heart and soul." 

Here he stuck out a hand nearly as big and hard as 
the capstan head. 

"There is Jim Jackson's hand," he said, "will you 
shake it?" 

" I will, my good fellow," cried the captain, with 


moisture in his eyes. "And now," he added, " I forgive 
you all." 

" Hurrah ! Hurrah ! " 

It was a shout, that, floating over the still, grey sea, 
must have been heard even on board the Delaware 

" Now, lads," cried Captain Brewer, " load the 
Dahlsfrens, and we'll show these Federal fellows that 
mosquitoes can bite, and even draw blood!" 



THE sun was still high in the heavens, and there was 
no more sign of wind than ever, saving one black 
cloud, but little larger than a house, that had lately 
risen rock-like on the western horizon. 

The men had been busy for hours getting up the 
stores which the captain had determined to throw 
overboard, and still they worked with a will. 

But by this time the was hardly three 
miles astern, and still coining up hand over hand. 

Now I should tell you that both Osmond and Ken- 
neth had been in the Volunteers since the movement — 
then but a young one — had commenced; Os in the 
rifles, Kenn in the artillery. With somewhat of par- 


donable pride the latter had told the captain that he 
was considered the best shot in his corps, and that he 
should like very much to try his hand at peppering 
the Delaware. 

" By all means," returned Captain Brewer, " for we 
haven't a decent shot in the ship." 

Kenn was indeed overjoyed then, and he must needs 
run down below to tell Osmond about his promotion. 

Osmond was as pleased about it as his friend. 

" I'm so glad!" he cried, his cheeks flushing with joy. 
" Hit straight, Kenn, hit straight." 

"I'll try, my boy; but now I'm off." 

" Oh, wait — do wait one minute!" cried Lucy, running 
out of the state-room. 

She was back in a brace of shakes. In her hand 
she held a bonnie blue rosette. This she pinned to 
Kenneth's coat. 

" You are my hero," she said dramatically. " Go 
forth to battle. Come back with your shield or on it." 

Kenn laughed and ran off. 

The guns were being loaded and run out. 

Presently a puff of white smoke with a point of 
flame in its centre told those on board the Mosquito 
that the Federals had commenced the battle. The 
boom of the gun came angrily over the water; then a 
shot that fell far, far short of the stern, ricochetted 
about a hundred yards and sank. 


There was no more firing for half an hour; then 
the Delaware was seen to slue round. She fired a 
broadside. Shot flew everywhere about the Mosquito. 
Some were very close, but none struck her. The 
Delaware lost time, however, and it was unlikely she 
would repeat the experiment. 

On she came again. Flames as well as smoke issued 
from her funnel. 

"She's burning pork," cried Captain Brewer. 
"Stand by, Mr. Kenneth Reid, and give her black 

Presently the roar of a great Dahlgren gun shook 
the ship from stem to stern. 

Poor Lucy seemed quite like a little mother to 
Osmond. She rose from her seat by the port, and 
stole gently to his side, placing one tiny hand on his 

" Don't be afraid, dear," she said, in a low voice; "it 
will soon be over. Then you'll have a nice sleep." 

Osmond made the child's hand a prisoner for a short 

" I couldn't be afraid," he answered, " with you 
there, Lucy dear." 

B-r-r-r-ang ! 

That was another shot. The smoke of it as it rolled 
past quite darkened the state-room. But after this, 
Lucy and her patient heard something that hadn't 


followed the first shot, namely, a wild and exultant 

It had been a glorious shot that. It had gone 
smashing through the Delaivare s funnel, and carried 
away the mizzen mast almost by the board. Two 
shots were returned from the enemy's bow-chasers, 
but without doing any injury to the Mosquito. 

"Bravo, Kenneth Reid!" cried the captain. 

Then down the communicating pipe he shouted: 
"Do you think you could put another knot into it?" 

Half a minute after the engineer himself, all black, 
greasy, and grimy, appeared on the bridge. He was 
wet and steaming with perspiration. 

He touched his cap. 

" Yes, sir, I can," he said ; " if you give me a few 
sides of bacon." 

" I give you a free hand ; do as you please." 

That Scotch engineer took the captain at his word. 

He ordered big Sambo, who was standing at the 
pantry door, with his arm in a sling and his skin 
looking rather loose around his eyes, to send him 
down two sides of the fattest bacon, " right off the 
reel", as he phrased it. 

Sambo's eyes grew bigger. 

" I tink, sah, you go mad," said Sambo. 

" No, no, Sambo, niver a mad. It's to cut up and 
put under the biler. D'ye see?" 


" I see now, sah ; plenty mooch." 

" Noo, lads," cried the Scot, when the bacon came 
down; "cut it up and feed the fire. I mean to make 
her rip. Sambo, you're doing nothing," he continued, 
looking up to the doorway where the steward was 
standing staring wonderingly down. " Sambo, you're 
doing nothing, and you're heavy and broad in the 
beam. Just come along here and sit on the safety 

"An' s'pose de injin she bust, sah, where pore Sambo 
be den, sah ? Tell me dat. No, tank you, I want to 
go to hebben vely much, but I no like to go in dat 

And off went Sambo. 

B-r-r-T-ang ! One more shot, and presently another, 
and then cheering asrain. 

The Yankee was catching it; for the Delaivay^es 
bowsprit was splintered and hung in pieces around the 
bows, quite impeding her way. 

" Now, lads," shouted Captain Brewer, " up with the 
bonnie blue flag, for here comes a breeze at last. Give 
them one more cheer, and we'll show them a clean 
pair of heels. Hurrah!" 

Once more the Delaware slued round, and a broad- 
side was fired, half the shot of which never reached 
the ship, while the other half played harmlessly around 
the Mosquito. 


" Shall I try a shell or two, sir?" 

" That you may." 

But Kenneth was less successful with shells. 

Meanwhile the sun was going down, and wind and 
sea were rising. 

"Thank God," said Captain Brewer, "we have 
shaken her off at last!" 

It was a very dark night that followed, and almost 
a stormy one; but southwards over the sea the good 
ship ploughed her way, with never a light showing 
on deck, and with tarpaulins over hatches and sky 

When the sun rose and shone red over the wind- 
tossed ocean, there was never a sail in sight. 

But Captain Brewer determined now to give up all 
thoughts of Charleston, and make the best of his way 
to Pensacola Bay, in the Mexican Gulf, and extreme 
end of Florida. 

Here, it is true, was Port Pickens, but lately revic- 
tualled and regarrisoned by the Federals. It was not 
forts, however, that Captain Brewer feared, but ships; 
and he rightly guessed there would be far fewer 
Federal cruisers hovering around in the south than 
in the north. 

The weather began to get sensibly hotter now, a,nd 
before the good ship reached the beautiful Bahama 
Islands, the wounded were nearly all well. Though 


very weak as yet, Osmond, still ministered to by his 
little nurse Lucy, was able to come on deck every 

As the wind had gone down, steam was once more 
in force, and sea and sky, both noon and night, were 
beautiful in the extreme. The sun would rise in 
crimson glory, shining over the sea in a triangular 
track of dazzling blood-red light, a triangle that had 
its broad base in the far-off horizon, its apex near the 
ship. If there was any morning haze it soon cleared 
off, and when the awning was spread across the quarter- 
deck Osmond could recline on his chair, and with 
dreamy half-closed eyes gaze on an ocean whose beauty 
of colour, — its pinks, its opals, its greens and greys, — 
was more lovely than pen can describe. Sometimes 
away on bow or beam a green island would be descried, 
seeming to hang on the horizon, or be suspended in 
the air itself like a veritable fairy land. 

The sunsets likewise were inexpressibly beautiful. 
There was a new moon now, and when that glimmered 
like a golden scimitar, and the stars were all aglitter 
in a sky of dark and deepest blue, the scene was not 
only tranquil but even holy. 

Captain Brewer, in order to avoid even the chance 
of another chase or another battle, kept away to the 
east of the Bahamas, but he doubled Andros at last, 
then skirting; the northern shores of Cuba he bore 


boldly up through the Gulf of Mexico for Pensacola 

Before daylight in the morning he made an attempt 
to run the blockade, but finding this was impos.sil)le, 
and that he would only succeed in drawing a fire from 
fort and ships that would sink him, Captain Brewer 
withdrew — luckily without being perceived — and 
made off to sea again. 

It came on to blow high and hard from the south 
towards sunset. Well, it is an ill wind tliat blows 
nobody good. Captain Brewer was a very excellent 
sailor, and knew the Bay and channels of Mobile well. 
So, banking fires, he made straight for tlie eastern 
opening. The Federals, he reckoned, if any ships were 
there, would hardly venture out on such a night, and 
if they sighted him, would scarcely dare to give chase 
for fear of running on shore. 

The city lies at the top of the Bay to the left, and 
although the Mosquito would be welcome there, any 
Federal ship daring to follow would have it hot. 

There were Federal vessels in the Bay, however, 
and more than one. 

Captain Brewer could have wished a darker night, 
for the moon shone all too brilliantly. Never mind, it 
was to be life or death. So on he went. I think his 
very courage was his safety. Fortune favours the 


When he got within range of the ships at anchor, 
they opened fire. One shot made a lovely hole in the 
funnel, another smashed a boat. 

Captain Brewer made no reply, but went dashing 

The danger soon seemed past and gone. Clouds 
had banked up in the East and obscured the moon, 
and it was now almost dark. The Captain had his 
after-guns double shotted and run out in case of 

This proved to be a wise precaution, for in an hour's 
time a perky little gun-boat seemed to drop out of the 
sky, so suddenly did she appear. 

" What ship is that?" was the hail. 

" The Confederate cruiser Brunswick, twenty guns. 
Who are you?" 

There was no reply, but the little vessel went away 
on another tack and seemed to fly across the water 
like a Mother Gary's chicken. 

" Give her a touch, Kenneth," cried Captain Brewer, 
and a few moments after the Dahlgren gave voice and 
a shot flew over the water. 

It was but a chance shot, but terrible in its effect. 
In a few seconds, then, the roar of an explosion was 
heard on board the gun-boat, rays of fire and rolls of 
white smoke rose heavenwards, with broken spars and 
timbers and — all too visible to those on board the 


Mosquito — dark masses that could only be the bodies 
or limbs of men. 

Kenneth put his hand to his brow and eyes. He 
was horrified at the results of that shot, and felt he 
could have shed tears. He was very young, you 
know, and as yet had seen but very little of the 
horrors of war. 

"Haul the main yard aback!" 

It was Captain Brewer's voice. 

" All hands on deck ! Call away the whalers to 
save life!" 

Two boats were quickly lowered, Brewer himself 
going in one, Kenneth in the other. 

The sea was rough, the waves were houses high, 
and broke in seething masses of foam at the top, 
which were caught up by the wind and carried in 
sheets across the boats; yet boldly and manfully were 
these rowed. 

They reached the scene of the catastrophe in time 
to save no less than seven of the crew, two of whom 
were officers. 

At last they prepared to return. But just at that 
moment the rattle of oars in rowlocks was heard, and 
the moon, suddenly escaping from behind a cloud, 
revealed the presence of no less than three Federal 
man-o'-war boats. 

"Would they, could they, or should they fight?" 


Captain Brewer asked himself. " Nay, nay, all are 
brothers in a scene like this." 

He now hailed the advancing boats. 

" We sank your gun-boat," he cried, " and we have 
lowered boats and picked up all that have not dis- 

" Thank you," was the reply. " Can you transfer, 
or do you wish to take those you have saved as 

" Prisoners ? No, no, sir. But the sea is too rough 
to transfer here. Come with us to my ship." 

In less than half an hour the Mosquito's boats were 
drawn up, the half-drowned men were being seen to 
on board; the Federal boats lay on the lee side, and 
the Federal officers were down below partaking of 
hospitality in the saloon. 

The lieutenant in command was but a young man, 
but handsome and bold-looking. He extended his 
hand with a smile to Captain Brewer. 

" You are one of the bravest and most generous 
men," he said, " I have ever met. I trust to God, who 
rules all things, that I may some day have an oppor- 
tunity of repaying you for your kindness to our poor 
fellows. Many a ship's commander would have gone 
on and left them to their fate." 

" I hope," replied Brewer laughing, " you never may 
have the chance of repaying me for what after all was 


a duty. But come, you will stay to supper. By the 
time we have discussed that your men's clothes will 
be dry." 

" Supper, Captain — er — er — ." 

" Brewer, at your service." 

" Thanks, we'll gladly stay for supper." 

In the deshabille of borrowed dressing-gowns and 
slippers the two officers picked up from the gun-boat 
joined the mess, while their rescued shipmates made 
merry round the galley iire where their clothes were 

" Sambo," cried the captain, " splice the main brace 
forward. Don't foro-et the men in the boats alon&side. 
Hand them down pork and biscuits also." 

The officers remained on board the Mosquito for 
three hours, but never a word about the war was 
spoken. Tales were told and songs were sung, and 
the lieutenant in command took Lucy on his knee as 
if she had been his own child. 

And yet these men hob-nobbing and smoking so 
happily are sworn enemies. Who could believe it? 

"Oh dear! Oh dear!" said Captain Brewer, as the 
Northerners rose to depart. " How sad it is that 
brothers such as we are cannot agree!" 

"Alas! The pity of it!" answered the lieutenant. 
" To-nifjht we're o-ood friends and hand in hand, to- 
morrow mortal foes, at daggers drawn. 


"Good night, little sweetheart!" he said, laying his 
hand on Lucy's head. " Don't forget Lieutenant Sellar. 
Who knows but we may meet again in happier times! 
Mrs. Brewer, good-night! Thank you for the music! 
I've spent such a jolly evening, and all so unexpectedly! 
Captain Brewer, you're every inch a sailor. May God 
reward you! Adios!" 

And over the side they went, receiving a cheer as 
they pulled off, and returning three times three. 

Next morning, after her long cruise and strange and 
terrible adventures, the Mosquito was safely anchored 
off Mobile. 

( JI 132 ) 





TWO months have passed by since the arrival of 
the Mosquito with munitions of war at Mobile. 
Osmond and Kenneth have bidden their good friends 
the Brewers farewell, .with many a heartfelt hope that 
they would all meet again in happier times. 

Both our young heroes were burning now to get on 
to the front. Before leaving England, Osmond had 
written to his cousin Harry telling of his determina- 
tion to come out and to join the war as a free lance or 
soldier of fortune, and also of the good luck he and 
his friend Kenneth had met with, in getting berths on 
board the Kathleen O'Mara and the promise of a Con- 
federate ship to convey them to Charleston. 

He could not be certain, however, that this letter 
would ever reach his cousin. 


It did SO, however, and Hany, after a month, had 
been in daily expectation of hearing from Charleston. 
He was astonished, therefore, when he received a letter 
one day from the city of Mobile, in which Osmond 
enlarged on all his adventures. 

" My wound is almost well now, however," he said, 
" thanks to the tender nursing I received on board from 
Mrs. Brewer, but more particularly from her charming 
little daughter Lucy. Oh, she is only a child, Harry," he 
continued, " or, I declare to you, I should be heels over 
head in love with her! Stay, though, cousin mine, I 
must be candid with you. I must ask myself the 
question, is it possible for a young fellow of eighteen, 
of the poetic temperament and romantic — whimsical, 
my dear brother Dick used to call it — to fall in love 
with a young lady who won't be in her teens for 
another month? I know you are laughing at me, 
Harry, but really my heart is strangely touched by 
this child's tenderness and affection. And she is not 
like other children. To me she seems ever so much 
older, and I have often found myself talking to her 
and asking her advice on subjects quite serious. What 
a silly I must be! Was that what you said, Harry? 

" But oh, cousin, our parting was the saddest on 
earth ! I was taken to a lovely villa in Mobile belong- 
ing to a friend of good Captain Brewer, and I believe 
half the good people in the city called on me and 


Kenneth. It was so good of us, everyone said, and so 
gallant to come out from England to fight for the free- 
dom of the Southern States. At first I wasn't able to 
go out at all, but there was scarcely an evening Kenn 
wasn't at a ball or party. I think you will love Kenn, 
though he isn't so romantic as I. But every night he 
came back with the same story, ' Fallen in love again, 
Os.' And it was with a different lady each time. 

" But no one has been able to prevail upon Lucy to 
go anywhere. She wouldn't go to ball or party, she 
said, but preferred to nurse her brother. That's me. 
Never mind grammar. ' That's I ' would be more 
correct, I know, but it sounds so stilted and stuck up. 

" Poor Lucy ! when she came to say good-bye at last 
she fairly broke down. She hung around Wolf's neck, 
and wept. She was quite the child then. So I lifted 
her off* Wolf and soothed and kissed her, and told her 
I should never, never forget her. Well, well, well — it's 
all over now. And next comes the war and fighting. 
They say — that is, some poet said: 

' The paths of glory lead but to the grave.' 

" Well, I declare to you, Harry, that if I thought I 
was never, never going to meet gentle Lucy again I 
should follow the path of glory to the grave, and wel- 
come the rest. Good-bye till we meet." 

In about two weeks' time the good ship Mosquito 


left Mobile. She would have to run the gauntlet of 
the Federal cruisers once again, and Osmond prayed 
for her and all that were in her day and night. 

There would be little fear, however, of another 
mutiny. Captain Brewer, of course, kept his promise 
to the cutthroat portion of his crew and did not give 
them up to justice, but he did not again ask them to 
go back with him on his new cruise to England. 

Osmond and Kenneth had plenty of invitations to 
join regiments preparing to go to the front. They 
were even offered commissions. But as they were 
determined to join the corps in which Harry and Will 
were fighting they steadfastly refused. However, they 
journeyed up north with a regiment, and a wild and 
strange march it was. They learned a deal about 
camp-life, however, and sleeping as they did every 
night within tents that hardly kept out the weather, 
they both got as brown as half-ripe bramble-berries, 
and about as hard in muscle as the main-stay of a jolly 
old frigate. 

Tlie men they had to chum with on this march were 
rather a rough lot, but hearty and jolly withal. For 
the first time in his life Osmond realized the real mean- 
ing of the term "Republicanism". Why, when off 
duty in this bold squad, Tommy was as good as his 
master; the private, indeed, was sometimes much more 
of a gentleman than the officer, and smoked and drank 


coffee witli him on equal terms. But on the line of 
march, or at any time when ordered to fall in, the men 
were most obedient. 

Through woods and wilds, through valley and glen, 
over morass and moorland and prairie, across stream 
and through many a dismal swamp, they journeyed on 
right cheerily day after day, northward, ever north- 

The men were somewhat unkempt, and certainly 
spent but small time at their toilet, but Osmond 
noticed that they were exceedingly careful of their 
clothes, especially their boots and shoes, which, during 
the day, most of them slung over their shoulders.^ 

Both Osmond and Kenneth followed their example, 
though they had each a bag or kit slung to the side 
of pack-mules. They had been offered the use of 
horses, but refused. They wanted, if the truth must 
be told, to show that Englishmen were quite as hardy 
and fit to stay when on the war-path as even Ameri- 
cans, And I believe they quite succeeded. 

Our young soldiers of fortune were, on the whole, 
somewhat hazy and uncertain as to their future. This 
question occurred to them more than once. Were they 
right in giving their services to the Confederate army ? 
Or were they thus committing some breach of neu- 

^ Many of the privates preferred to wear tweed jackets and slouch hats 
to uniform, and when a Federal or many Federals were kiUed they were 
quickly divested of their boots. 


trality, for which, if made prisoners by the Federals, 
they were liable to be shot? 

Osmond one night, while seated by the camp-fire, 
put this same question to the captain of the company, 
under whose protection they were travelling. 

He was a tall, raw-boned, brown -skinned soldier, 
with long hair, and a very broad sombrero sort of a 

He was sitting with his back to a form, and now 
and then throwing a handful of withered needles on 
the fire to make it blaze up. 

He took two or three whiifs of his huge cigar before 
he replied: 

" Wall," he said, " I guess it's like this, young 'uns. 
Es long's you keep with us you're mighty safe; but if 
the yellow-skinned Yanks cotches ye, yer backs against 
a wall and half a dozen cartridges will put ye out o' 
yer misery. But, bless yer souls, it's the quickest and 
easiest death out. Have a drink." 

He handed them a bottle as he spoke. 

" It's the best old rye," he explained. 

The young fellows shook their heads, but thanked 
him all the same. 

So he had a long pull and a strong pull himself, then 
lit a fresh cigar. 

One night something occurred that showed Osmond 
and Kenneth how lightly life was valued by men like 



these. They and the commandant — Stuart was his 
name — were being made much of at a farmer's eosy 
fireside. Osmond had just been asked for a song, and 
was commencing, when a loud knocking was heard at 
the door. 

The farmer's buxom black-eyed daughter opened it, 
and two armed men came in. They dragged after 
them a handsome young dark-bearded man, whose 
arms were firmly bound to his chest with pieces of 
stout rope. 

"Sergeant Simpson, isn't it?" said Captain Stuart, 
without taking his pipe from his mouth. 

" That's my name, sir," said Simpson, boldly. 

"What's the charge?" 

" Found him two miles from camp, sir, planning an 
attack on us at midnight. We shot the two Federals, 
and took the traitor alive." 

"You lie," shouted Simpson; "I'm no traitor. I'm 
a Federal, and true to my government, even if I have 
followed you rebels." 

" Then I guess you're a mean cur of a spy." 

" Call me so, sir, if you like." 

" No blufif; ye know you are, and you must die at 
daybreak. Take him away. Corporal. Stop, have you 
any favour to ask, prisoner?" 

" None from you, old Reb. But if that young fellow 
here" — he looked at Osmond — " will put his hand in 


my pocket, he'll find a letter to my young wife in 
Richmond. Maybe, being an Englishman, he'll have 
the goodness to deliver it." 

Osmond glanced at Captain Stuart, and received a 
nod of acquiescence. 

As he was taking the letter out, the unfortunate 
man half- whispered in his ear, "Tell my wife when 
you get to Richmond that I died like a man, and kiss 
my child for me." 

There was moisture in his eyes as he spoke, and a 
sad look in his face, the only evidence of weakness he 

"Now then, Mr. Osmond Lloyd," said Captain 
Stuart, when the prisoner and his guards had gone; 
" now for your song." 

But there was no more singing in Osmond that night. 

At no great distance from the camp stood a large 
oak, and across a limb of this, at early dawn, a long 
rope was thrown. Soon after sunrise the spy was led 
out. They had given him a cigar, which he was 
quietly smoking. He was somewhat pale, but other- 
wise resolute and firm. 

" Boys," he said quietly, as he stood under the 
branch, with the ugly bight of rope round his bare 
white neck, "long live the Union! Now, lads, catch 
a hold; you stick to your end o' the rope, and I guess 
I'll stick to mine. Good-bye; see you later on." 


Osmond and Kenneth were inexpressibly horrified 
at the whole proceeding; but far more so when next 
moment the rope broke, and the wretched man came 
to the ground with a dull thud. He was coolly raised 
to the sitting position till a fresh rope should be bent, 
and presently opened his eyes and gazed around him 

" This can't be heaven," he muttered, with a faint 
smile. " Too many rascally Rebs around me." 

The next attempt was successful, but the death was 
a cruel one; and for long minutes the body was con- 
vulsed, while dark blood trickled from mouth and ears. 

Ah! war is a terrible thing, and civil war is the 
very worst kind! 

It was a lovely morning when the corps resumed its 
march to the music of the band; the sun had been up 
some time, and a kind of purple mist hung all over the 
woods and the distant hills. 

As they passed the fatal tree Osmond looked up. 
The corpse, to his astonishment, was still swinging 
there, moving to and fro in the breeze. 

Captain Stuart noticed the young fellow's look of 

" We never hardly buries 'em," he said, smiling. 
" Just leaves 'em a-swinging. Ah ! you'll get used to 
it all by and by." 


In a few days' time, the little army, which now 
numbered quite a thousand, reached a rather wild 
forest land, but a land of hills and streams also, on 
the borders of Tennessee. 

Beautiful though it was, the population was limited ; 
but the people seemed comfortably off and well- 

In this district Captain Stuart assured Osmond he 
felt sure of finding a great many recruits. 

" I guess," he said, " I'll quite swell my little army 
out o' here." 

Well, it was evident enough, at all events, that no 
one had as yet gone from this forest land to swell 
either the ranks of Federals or Confederates. 

The niggers appeared to be a little lazy, and per- 
fectly contented with their lots. 

" Bress de Lawd," one old white-haired slave said to 
Osmond, " we dunno nuffin about de wah down heah. 
We jes mos happy to lib wid Massa and the young 
white folks, and when we dies we done go to Jesus." 

Osmond had met the old man coming from the 
woods up through the large clearing, in the middle 
of which stood a beautiful log-house, with verandahs 
on two sides; and although it was the beginning of 
December, flowers were still trailing over it. In this 
clearing Stuart's troops were encamped for the night. 

The nigger was leading a little black girl. 


" Dis piccaniny am my gran'cliile," he told Osmond. 
" She happy too." 

" You happy, sah 1 " he continued, suddenly turning 
questioner. " I go down on my knees and pray foh 
you, sah?" 

Osmond hastened to tell him there really was no 

" Den," he said, " we march along togedder to de ole 
log-house, and I sings to you all de time." 

Osmond couldn't object to that. So on they went 
together. The negro's song began somewhat as follows, 
but I forget how it ended: — 

" Der is a land ob pure delight, 

Where saints immortal reign ; 
Infinite day succeeds the night, 
Au' pleasures banish pain." 

Near to the garden that surrounded the old log- 
house, a neatly - dressed white child of fairy -like 
beauty came bounding to meet the negro, her arms 
outstretched and her yellow hair floating on the wind. 

"Uncle Tucker, Uncle Tucker!" she cried, "I's so 
glad you've dot back. Such a lot of pretty soldier 
men, and boo'ful swords and guns, have comed. Run, 
Uncle, run and see them." 

Uncle Tucker didn't run. He stopped, though, and 
placed his huge black spade of a hand on the child's 


" Bress de Lawd, my chile, foh all His goodness, but 
dese men am all goin' to fight and spill specious blood! 
Come, we will sing to His praise, Miss Lizzie." 

And once more Uncle Tucker commenced his song. 
But he had taken Miss Lizzie up in his arms, and as 
he marched along her soft peach cheek was leaned 
lovingly against his snow-white head, and her long 
hair fell over the nigger's shoulder. 

It was a pretty picture. 

Osmond's welcome by the host and hostess of this 
log mansion was very hearty and sincere. Captain 
Stuart was there too, of course, with two of his lieuten- 
ants and Kenneth. 

Before he retired, the commandant, much to his joy, 
had succeeded in rousing the warlike spirit in two of 
the planter's sons. To-morrow they would be certain, 
he thought, to join the ranks. 

That night, however, he and his men had an enemy 
to fight they little dreamed of encountering. 



IT must not be supposed that all the Confederate or 
seceding States were made up wholly of people 
unfriendly to the Union. No, quite the reverse; and 


throughout all this long march, especially as they got 
farther to the North, Captain Stuart and his men had 
to look out for foes and for treachery even in his 
own camp. 

His corps now, however, was big enough to defend 
itself against any open attack either by night or day^ 
or against roving bands that appeared now and again, 
and kept up a kind of guerilla warfare. 

Still, for the catastrophe that occurred this particular 
night, Stuart was no doubt right in blaming Federal 

All had turned in; and sleep reigned among the 
footsore and weary soldiers, who had put in a very 
long day's march. Only the sentries and pickets were 
very much on the alert indeed. The last thing that 
Osmond remembered as he covered himself with his 
rug and lay down, was the bright and holy stars shin- 
ing in through the door of the tent. 

He dropped off almost as soon as his head touched 
his pillow of grass, and was dreaming of his home 
far away in Merry England. Eva was in that dream, 
and they sat together as they used to sit in the dear 
days that now seemed so long gone by. They sat in 
the old library with Wolf by their feet. Suddenly 
it grew very dark, he thought, and Wolf began to 
whine and press his great head under his arm. He 
felt suffocating too, and so he suddenly awoke. He 


awoke coughing. Sure enough, Wolf was by his 

The tent was filled with smoke. 

As he rubbed his eyes and tried to think he could 
hear a wild shout of — 

" Fire ! Fire ! The forest on fire ! " 

Next minute the drum beat to arms, and the bugle 
sounded the assembly, 

Osmond and Kenneth dressed hurriedly and rushed 
out. For a few moments they could see nothing, as 
the smoke was everywhere, but soon a red glare was 
visible far away to the west, rising in sheets, higher 
and higher, till it reached the zenith, then dying down 
once more only to rise again in a minute's time redder 
than before, as if the fire beneath was increasing in 

Osmond found himself beside Captain Stuart. He 
was busy enough giving orders, but did not hesitate to 
answer the question put to him. 

" Is there danger?" Osmond had ventured to inquire. 

"Danger! Yes; lots of danger It is the work of 
incendiaries, and if they only succeed in firing the 
forest in front as well as behind us, we will be 
hemmed in and burned or smoked like rats in a blazing 

" Can we be of any service, my friend and I V 

Captain Stuart replied quickly enough: 


"Yes, you can. I am despatching men under the 
command of two sergeants to the right and to the left 
to try and find the incendiaries before they set fire to 
our front. Go with them, boys, one of you to each 
party. The sergeants are old scouts, and as clever on 
the war-path as Sioux Indians." 

" We are ready. Which is my party ? " 

" That yonder. And this is yours, Kenneth. My 
orders to you are, if the incendiaries be caught they 
are to be tied to trees that the fire they have raised 
may reach them and their fat go to feed it. The 
cowardly villains!" 

This was an order, however, that Osmond had no 
intention of obeying, should they succeed in trapping 
the fire-raisers. But there was no time for argument. 

Fire, when it succeeds in getting the upper hand, is 
indeed a terrible thing. But no one who has not seen 
a forest or a prairie on fire can judge of its fury 
and its merciless power. In summer-time or in early 
autumn it is more frequent in the wooded districts of 
Western America than in winter, and may even rise 
spontaneously, probably from the rubbing of one 
branch of a tree against another in a breeze of wind. 
In early winter the trees are leafless and bare. The 
forest, for instance, which Osmond and his party now 
entered was composed for the most part of pine trees, 
oaks, chestnuts, and beeches with a rank growth of 

(M132) I 


underwood, and in such a forest at such a season of 
the year, fire could hardly originate spontaneously, 
scarcely even accidentally. It must have been the 
work of men, whom Stuart could hardly have been 
blamed for calling fiends incarnate. 

Many of the trees, moreover, were old and covered 
with withered lichens; and in the more open spaces 
among the pine trees, the ground was thickly covered 
with the needles that had fallen from above, season 
after season, for many years. 

Captain Stuart had now only one thought, namely, 
how to escape with his little army, and to save at the 
same time the people at the log mansion where, but a 
few hours before, he had been so kindly welcomed and 

There was no time to lose, therefore, so the camp 
was struck at once and the heavy baggage loaded on 
the pack-mules. These mules were less sensitive and 
less timid in the presence of the awful danger than 
many of the horses, that were snorting and rearing 
and plunging in deadly terror. One or two had 
already escaped and dashed wildly away to the 

When a forest fire, like that which was now raging 
and spreading every moment, i% fairly alit, it rushes 
onwards with terrible speed, at fast at times as even 
a horse can gallop. It heats the air, too, far in front 


of it, SO that by the time the fire reaches the trees, 
they are dry, hot, and ready to blaze. 

The party that Osmond accompanied was soon swal- 
lowed up in the black depths of the forest. 

It was a mystery to our hero how the sergeant scout 
managed to steer in the right direction. He had but 
the glare of the fire to the west, and now and then the 
gleam of a star in the east, to guide him. Yet on he 
went, his men following, silently, in Indian file. 

Nor was the sergeant trusting to blind chance. He 
had his plan of action. He was crossing the forest, 
and his object was to find a trail — the trail of the 
incendiaries. In his left hand was a tiny bull's-eye 
lantern, which he opened now and then, turning its 
light earthwards or on the bushes around. 

"Ugh!" he said at last. The slight exclamation 
caused his men to close up around him. He was 
standing in a little glade and pointing downwards. 
There, sure enough, on the moss, were footprints, and 
a little way farther on were some broken twigs 
where bushes had been pulled roughly aside. " Now, 
boys," he cried, "may the Lord guide us, and we'll 
soon have our hands on the throats of the murdering 

A strange kind of prayer, thought Osmond. 

" Follow in silence, but we'll have to run," continued 
the sergeant. 


In two hours' time, — and what a long weary two 
hours it was, — they came up with those they were in 
search of. Seven or eight of them there were, but so 
busily engaged raising a pile of half-dry brushwood 
and trying to light it, that they did not hear the 
approach of the sergeant's party until they wei'e quite 

The fire had already begun to blaze, and its ruddy 
liofht shone in the face of the startled incendiaries and 
on the stern, set countenances of the determined Con- 

"Time's up!" shouted the sergeant. "Resistance 
ain't in it. Up with your hands, or we fire!" 

" Surrender to rebels ! Never! Charge, boys!" 

The melee that followed was sharp and terrible. It 
was soon over, however, for the sergeant's party was 
three to one. Rifles rang out. The sharp crack of 
revolvers followed, and then the fight was finished 
with knives. 

It was well, perhaps, that in the excitement of the 
terrible "tulzie" the commandant's order to catch them 
alive and tie them to trees had been forgotten. 

Not a man was left alive. Dreadful to say, however, 
the breath could not have been out of some before 
they were tossed into the fire. 

The action of one powerful negro who had come 
with the party was something that Osmond could 


never forget. He seized the man that had last fallen 
beneath his blows, and swinging him round his head, 
commenced to extinguish the flames with him. He 
had clutched him by the legs, the wretched man's arms 
flew loosely round as if he were alive, which it is to be 
hoped he was not; while the gigantic negro, thus 
fighting the fire, looked like the very incarnation of 

In a few minutes it was all over; so far, the danger 
was past. 

As they returned — it was now nearly daylight 
though the sun could not be seen — they struck the 
main road that led from the planter's farm. It was 
evident that the corps had pressed on, so they rode 
after and soon overtook them. 

Osmond was astonished to hear that the planter 
himself had determined to brave out the fire-storm. 

" He is a gone coon," said Stuart. " We did all we 
could to induce him to come along, but he wouldn't 
budge, and his niggers remain with him." 

Let us now revert for a moment to Kenneth and 
his party. 

They searched the wood for hours in vain for a 
trail, and then returned towards the plantation to 
report. Finding that the regiment had gone, bag and 
baggage, they made their way as well as they could to 
the planter's house. It was getting darker and darker 


every minute with the rolHng clouds of smoke, though 
now well on in the day. 

At the farm-steading they found that all was con- 
fusion and excitement, Kenneth met the planter's 
wife and younger children at the door of the house. 
They seemed almost distracted with fear. 

They would be burned alive, she said. She had 
seen forest fires before, but never anything like this. 
Mr. Stallworthy, her husband, had trusted to the 
stream that ran through the woods to stay the pro- 
gress of the fire, but it had leapt over that barrier, 
and was now rapidly approaching the plantation and 

Kenneth found Stallworthy himself at last. He 
was making hasty preparations for flight, angry with 
himself now that he had not done so sooner, and 
accompanied the soldiers in their hurried march. 

Kenneth and the men under the sergeant helped 
to harness the frightened horses to the wagons, 
and to hold them after they were put to. This 
last was the more difficult part of the business, for 
the poor brutes were trembling and perspiring with 

"I am a ruined man," said the planter; "I can save 
no property, but shall thank Heaven on high if I can 
but save the life of my wife, my children, and my dear 
old mother." 


The fire was now making rapid progress, and so 
dark had it become with the smoke, that when Kenneth 
and three men left the out-buildings to assist Mrs. 
Stallworthy and children to reach the wagons, for a 
time they could not find the way. 

They succeeded at last, however. The mother was 
bed-ridden and had to be carried out wrapped up in a 

It was terrible to hear the moaning of the frightened 
cattle, that doubtless thought they were to be aban- 
doned to their awful fate. 

The negroes of the plantation, while preparations 
for flight were being made, worked like heroes, not 
only in helping to pack the few valuables that an 
attempt was being made to save, but in fighting the 
fire. Yes, it had come so near now, that flaming balls 
and fiery, glowing pieces of bark were falling all 
around, and these the niggers actually jumped upon 
and extinguished with their naked feet. All this, too, 
mind you, amidst a gloom and darkness that was 
almost like that of midnight. 

At last the wagons are ready, and the women and 
children on board. 

But the cattle, they must be released now. The 
sergeant and Kenneth with a few negroes volunteer 
for this service. As they rush towards the out-houses, 
to Kenn's surprise they came across old Uncle Tucker. 


He was on his knees praying aloud to God to avert 
the dread calamity, and save the old plantation, " pore 
ole Massa's propetty ". 

" Come with us! Come with us!" cried the sergeant. 
"You'll be burned alive. You must work as well as 

Thus adjured, and after being actually lifted to his 
feet, the old negro consented to come along. 

At the first byre or cow-house they came to, a fear- 
ful fate nearly befell three of the slaves who had gone 
in to let loose the poor, frightened cattle. For the 
first few set free closed the door on themselves, and no 
strength that those who were outside could bring to 
bear on it, could force it open. 

"An axe! an axe!" cries the sergeant. Yes, but 
who knows where to find one. 

The roof, too, of an adjoining barn is already in 
flames, and that of the cow-house covered with flying, 
fiery cinders. 

At last, and only just in time, they find a fallen 
tree, and with this they dash the door in pieces, and 
both men and cattle are saved. 

No sooner are the beasts free, than they madly 
stampede away towards the eastern forest, and Kenneth 
and party, with innocent old Uncle Tucker, have now 
to fly for their lives. 

Oh, indeed it is a race for life! They have retained 



one wagon, and in this, with two horses driven by 
Kenneth, off they dash. 

It seems impossible, however, that they can escape. 
They have found the road, it is true, but what a road 
it is! Bumpy, rutty, — terrible. And the woods at each 
side have caught fire, the branches of the pine trees 
blaze like gigantic torches, their stems are like molten 
gold, the underwood is a sea of flame, and on the high, 
gusty wind sparks and fiery cinders are blown along 
on the rolling clouds of smoke, as thick as snow-flakes 
in a wintry storm. On and on they dash at a break- 
neck gallop, trees falling on each side and the roar of 
the flames drowning the rattle of the wheels. No 
danger could be more extreme, yet our young hero 
Kenneth seems to rise to it, and with it. He sits 
firmly on his seat, firmly does he grasp the reins, and 
firmly feel his horses' mouths; for well he knows that 
if one stumbles and falls, the forest fire will win the 
race, and their blood will be licked up by the awful 
heat, and their bodies turned into cinders even before 
the fire can reach them. 

On, on, and on. 

On and on for one lono' hour. And at length the 
horses have won, and all is saved! But the danger 
Kenneth and his new friends have come through is one 
they will never on earth forget. 




/^SMOND'S arrival at the old plantation, as 
^ Cousin Harry called his home, was as sudden as 
it was unlooked for by those upon the place. 

It was as much a surprise for Osmond as for any- 
one else. He had had no idea he was so near to it. 
He and Kenneth had fallen some distance to the rear, 
for the scenery all round was beautiful in the ex- 
treme. The two friends, after the mid-day halt, had 
climbed a hill to enjoy the view, while Captain 
Stuart and his men rested and smoked. 

An old negro whom they found fishing in a stream 
volunteered his services as guide. 

"What a charming country!" cried Osmond, after 
they had gained the summit of the hill. " Who 
would not live in such a land as this? Who would 
not fight for it, die for it? Why, Kenneth, I had 
expected to find the country about here all prairie 
land, or partly prairie, partly swamp. But oh, look, 
Kenn, look! Look at the rolling woodlands, the 
mighty stretches of forest land, the grand old river 
meandering through the wide and well-cultivated 
valley, and broadening out as it reaches the far-off 
lake. We have no such lakes in our country, we have 


no such rivers, no such still, green rolling forest. And 
look, too, at these mountains away in the west yonder, 
raising their purple summits in the blue ethereal sky. 
Kenneth, don't you feel inspired?" 

" Os, old man, haul your foreyard aback. Come off 
your high horse and talk plain English. I wouldn't 
give London, nay, nor Liverpool itself, for all I yet 
have seen in America. We may not have hills like 
these, nor such forests either. But we have forests 
that are better far — we have forests of masts. Ay, 
and we have hills too with which, lovely as they are, 
these we see here can but ill compare, for every wave 
that rolls around our island home is but one of a 
watery chain of mountains that protects the pride and 
honour of dear old England." 

"Bravo, Kenn! Bravo!" cried Osmond. "That is 
good; good — er — for you." 

Kenneth laughed and turned to talk to the negro. 

" And you live not far from here. Uncle Tom, don't 
you?" he said. 

"I lib not fah from heah, sah, for true; but, sah, 
my name am Uncle Neile, not Uncle Tom. You see 
dat beautiful plantation, sah, not fah from de green 
wood. You see de verandahs all aroun'. Wid de 
glass you see de white missies play in de garden. 
Dat am my proud home, sah. I'se gettin' ole an' stiff 
now, and my hair is bery white, but de ole massa's 


cliil'en dey lub poor Uncle Neile, and Uncle Neile he 
nebber leave dem now. No, sah, no. 

" S'pose," he added, " de Yanks come and dey 'man- 
cerpate us, all de same I lib wid massa and de chil'en. 
But pore massa, with Harry and Will, they done gone 
fight de Federal sodgers." 

Osmond now pricked up his ears, figuratively 

" An' oh, young gemlems, it am bery, bery sad; dere 
am no one lef at 'ome but Massa M'Donald to — " 

" Uncle Neile, is it possible," cried Osmond, " that I 
am near to my cousins' plantation? ^yhat is your 
master's name, the owner of that beautiful farm?" 

" Massa Bloodworth, sah, foh true." 

" Kenneth, Kenneth!" shouted Osmond. "Hurrah, 
Kenn, why, we're home at last! Shake hands, Uncle, 
shake hands, old man. I am the cousin of Harry and 
Will. I have come out all the way from England to 
fight side by side with your young masters." 

Old Uncle Neile was speechless for a moment, but 
the tears rolled down his cheeks. 

"Bress de Lawd! Bress de good Lawd!" he cried. 
" It was de Lawd, sah, who sent you heah." 

There were no more thoughts of scenery now in 
Osmond's head. With the old negro the two young 
men hurried back to camp and told Captain Stuart of 
their discovery. 


" I guess you must wait here for a day or two 
then," said Stuart. " Give my love to all at the plan- 
tation. No, no, 'twouldn't do for me to wait. My 
country needs my men, and any day or hour now we 
may have to fight. Off with you ! Come on to Rich- 
mond as soon as you can. Bye-bye! Ah! we're 
bound to meet again." 

So farewells were said, and in less than an hour 
Osmond was sitting in the cheerful drawing-room of 
Brookland Manor, with his aunt and cousins around 
him. It is needless to say that Kenneth was there also. 

Everything in and around the Manor looked tho- 
roughly English, even the dresses of his girl cousins. 
They were all young — the five of them, the eldest 
being but sixteen — and all pretty. 

And how much like being at home it all seemed! 
The children were at first a little shy with Kenneth, 
but Osmond was a cousin, and they treated him like a 
brother from the very first. 

Wolf too was an object not only of love, but almost 
adoration, and the honest dog seemed to know he was 
among friends, and behaved accordingly. 

" 0, you must not go to-morrow!" cried sweet Katie 
the eldest. 

" Nor for a week," said another. 

" Oo must stop a whole monfi" with us, oo must," 
said the youngest little cousin. 


Osmond laughed. 

" Kenneth," he said, " war or not war, I think we 
must stay for just a week." 

" War or not war, we will," consented Kenneth. 

What a happy evening that was, and how tho- 
roughly the young folks, and even Mrs. Bloodworth, 
enjoyed the company of the strangers! 

"And still," she said, " you don't seem like strangers. 
Osmond, dear, your name is a household word with 
my poor boys, and it seems as if we had known Kenneth 
all his hfe." 

And songs were sung and tales were told and 
games were played, and when the silver-toned clock 
on the marble mantel-piece at last chimed the hour 
of twelve, nobody would believe it, and it was 
unanimously agreed that they should stay up another 
hour. What did time signify on such a night as 

But before they retired, late though it was, a hjann 
was sung and a prayer was read, then away to their 
room marched Osmond and Kenneth, Mrs. Bloodworth 
herself showing them the way, in quite a motherly 
fashion, to make sure that everything was comfort- 

As soon as she had said good-night and retired, the 
boys drew their rockers close up to the cheerful fire 
that burned on the low hearth. To be sure, the beds, 


with their snow-white curtains and drapery, looked 
very inviting, but Osmond had a letter to read that 
had been sent from Harry at the seat of war to await 
his coming. 

" Listen now," said Osmond. " Listen, Kenn, and 
you, too. Wolf. We must read this before turning in, 
mustn't we?" 

" I should think so, indeed." 

Wolf knocked his erreat tail ao-ainst the floor 
three times. It was as long and as thick as half a 

That was Wolf's way of saying "Yes". 

" ' Camp, near Manassas, 
" ' November, 1861. 

"'My dear old cousin Os, — You'll receive this at 
Brooklands. And what a welcome you'll have! Oh, 
wouldn't I like to be there to meet you! But, dear 
Os, we haven't whipped the Federals half enough yet. 
So make haste to help us. Why, I often say to Will, 
and he quite assents, that if we but saw you among 
us it would give us extra courage and go. Now, don't 
let my sisters detain you! You know what girls are. 
Every day is precious. Father has written to Rich- 
mond headquarters, and he has got two of our best 
generals to add a postscript. You are sure of com- 
missions, both of you. We are half sorry that your 
friend Kenneth has determined to join our navy or 


light only in forts — (this part of the letter referred 
to a communication Kenn had made to Osmond's 
cousins) — but as he is so good a shot with great guns, 
it is doubtless all for the best. 

" ' And now I am going to tell you a little about how 
things have gone since you left England. 

" ' Mind you, we haven't been victorious all along the 
line, but there is no repelling our advance, and in six 
months' time you'll tind that the remains of the 
Federal army will be flying for their lives back to 
Brooklyn and New York city. 

" ' There are many things you will have heard that I 
need only mention in this short letter, and I'll tell you 
more when we meet. 

" ' Have you heard of the battle at Wilson's Creek ? 
That is over Missouri way, you know. A great state 
is Missouri, and if you consult your war map you'll 
find St. Louis, and away north of it, in Illinois, lies 
Springfield. Now, General Lyon commanded the 
Federals about there, and was one of the bravest 
generals the enemy had. All honour to the brave, Os, 
even if they do belong to the foe. Colonel Sigel was 
another officer. Well, the two of them combined to 
attack our forces that were then pouring northwards 
over Missouri. The two armies met at Wilson's Creek, 
and the fight was hot and desperate. It is said that 
the Feds had 13,000 men, and that our side iium- 


bered 8000. But, Osmond, this is but a Yankee 

version of the story of this fight.^ 

"'Anyhow, Osmond' — are you listening, Kenneth:'" 

" Of course," said Kenn. " I'm hstening." 

" But," said Osmond, " it was Harry who spoke. The 

words are here in the letter." 

" ' Anyhow, Os, we thrashed them, and they fled in 

disorder, leaving 1200 dead and wounded. Our losses 

were little over 1000. 

" ' But poor Lyon, the brave Federal, fell sword in 

hand. Though wounded, he was leading his troops 

bravely on when a ball struck him dead from his 

horse. Remember what your Macaulay says. Cousin 


" ' But how can man die better 

Than facing fearful odds, 

For the ashes of his fathers, 

And the temples of his gods?' 

" ' Yes, my boy, even the Confederates seemed to 

mourn the untimely death of brave Lyon, for, mind 

you, lad, we are real soldiers now, and we already 

know something of 

. . . ' The stern joy that warriors feel 
In foemen worthy of their steel.' 

" ' I will now come nearer home, and describe in a 

1 Allowance must be made for Harry's enthusiasm. I doubt if the Federals 
numbered over 6000. 

(M132) K 


few brief sentences a fight in which Father, Will, and 
I took part. 

" ' The city of Lexington — high up on the Missouri 
Eiver — was laid siege to by our fellows, and for a time 
gallantly defended by the Federal Colonel Mulligan, 
but on the 20th of September he was obliged to give 
up his sword to our bold Price, who, like the gentle- 
man he is, returned it to him as a well-merited testimony 
of his valour. 

" ' Then came the battle of Ball's Bluff on October 
21st. This Bluff lies on the southern side of the 
Potomac, 'twixt Washington and Harper's Ferry. 

" ' I am sure we thought we were safe from attack 
that night in camp. It was on the 20th of October, 
and bitterly cold. Harry and I sat long that evening 
by the fire, for the boys were merry. Songs were 
sung, and yarns spun, as your sailor friend Kenneth 
would say, and we drank unlimited coffee to stimulate 
ourselves, but nothing stronger, I assure you. 

" ' At last we turned in, Will and I. Whenever we 
have a chance we sleep in the same tent and the same 
rugs keep both of us warm. Dear Father belongs to 
another corps, and so we seldom see him, but every 
night we pray for him, and for you too, Os, and all at 

" ' Now, this battle speaks well for our courage and 
our elan, for next morning the enemy was on us 


before we had cleared up breakfast. They advanced 
across the fields. 

"'We, on the other hand, took possession of the 
woods, and our fire was fierce and furious. It was no 
part of our intention, however, to remain concealed, 
so while the enemy's artillery fire filled the air like 
iron hail, while shells burst around us on every side, 
while war's thunders roared and clouds of smoke 
rolled over wood and field, we dashed upon the foe. 

" ' Never yet have I seen so spirited a charge ! Our 
yells spelt victory long before we crossed sword or 
bayonet with the Feds, and in a very short time we 
carried everything before us, and the routed enemy 
was hurled down the bluff into the river. It is here 
where, the Feds tells us, the tragedy came in. They say 
we massacred them, that we swamped or sunk the 
boats in which they strove in vain to escape, and 
shot them like seals in the water. 

"'Ah, me, Osmond! there may be some truth in 
this.^ But our men saw red, they were for the time 
being battle-mad, and so — it is best to draw a veil 
over this part of the fight. 

"'It is true, however, that the Feds lost 894 
killed and wounded, and that their rout need not have 
been so complete had they fought more like men and 
less like boys 

1 There was, I te&r.— Author. 


" ' The next thing I have to report to you is one 
that will interest your friend Kenneth. If you will 
glance at your map, then, cousin mine — and I am sure 
you never go about without one — and allow your 
eagle eye to sweep down the Atlantic coast past 
Charleston in South Carolina, before it reaches 
Savannah it will strike Port Royal. 

" ' This is a port of no small importance — I'm not 
making a pun, cousin — to the enemy, for alas! the 
enemy has occupied it in spite of all we could do. The 
fact is, Osmond, that although we have the best army, 
the Federals have the best navy, and it is getting 
greater and stronger every month, so I am told. Well, 
with their navy they will blockade all our ports as 
completely as they can. On the other hand, we are 
not going to be idle, even at sea. So we are getting 
ready fast cruisers. Several of these will be built in 
America, and several — whisper it, Osmond — in Great 
Britain. So it will be a kind of double game. The 
Federals will try to keep us poor and starve us witli 
their blockade, but we shall try our level best to 
sweep their commerce off the seas. 

" ' However, as to Port Royal, you must know that I 
wasn't there myself, only a birdie who was on board 
the Wabash has written to tell me. If I were perfectly 
sure that this letter would reach you safely I would 
let you know who the birdie is, but we are never sure 


into whose hands letters may fall, even when they 
pass through friendly lines. 

" ' As to getting communications from the enemy's 
fleet and army, I can assure you that it is not half so 
difficult as some may suppose. 

" ' But let the birdie speak for himself. 

" ' Dear old chum, I don't know how often I may 
have a chance of writing you, but the mere fact of our 
being enemies is not going to prevent us from remain- 
ing fast friends. I'm not going to give away any 
secrets, however. Just you bet your bottom dollar on 
that. So I shall only speak of the past, and let you 
know as occasion offers what we have done, not what 
we mean to do. 

" ' Well, Chummy, you know by this time all about 
the blockade we are instituting all along your coasts. 
We are going to keep the rebels in their holes. So 
our good President Lincoln — God bless his homely 
face! — determined to have a great central long-shore 
depot midway on the coast for the storage of every- 
thing our blockading fleet might need, not only 
powder shot and shell, but grub and grog and ice, to 
say nothing of coal, surgical stores, and nasty-nasties 
in the shape of quinine, salts, senna leaves, and mustard 
plasters. So old Abe thought that Port Royal would 
suit right down to the heel. And then, lad, he fitted 
out a monster fleet in Hampton Roads. It was just 


about the biggest thing in fleets the world has ever 
seen. If we had been at war with the all-fired 
Britishers, and had encountered them with a fleet 
like this, I figure and calculate that we'd have sent 
their ships all to the locker of Davie Jones, Esq., in 
the twinkling of a binnacle lamp; and you know 
we Yankees never boast. 

" ' Well, first there was the grand and invincible 
frigate Wabash — that's my ship — and then we had 
fifteen fighting gun-boats, five-and-thirty steamers with 
guns, and five-and-twenty sailing ships. The whole 
show was run by Admiral Dupont, and our chief soldier 
is a man who is going to give you fellows fits before 
many months are over. His name — don't you forget 
it — is General William Tecumseh Sherman, and he 
had 20,000 troops under his command. 

" ' Well, Chummy, if your Southern prejudices can 
stand it, I'll tell you more.' " 



T'VE been often told, Osmond," said Kenneth Eeid, 
-L drawing his chair a little nearer to the cosy fire, 
" that the Northerners weren't given to drawing the 


long bow, and that letter of Birdie's is proof positive 
they don't boast." 

"Shall I read on, then, or are you getting sleepy?" 

" Sleepy ? No. Heave round, lad," 

" ' Well, Chummy mine,' Birdie's letter went on, ' we 
got up anchor and tracked away from Hampton 
Boads. Now, middies on board a man-o'-war are 
expected to be all eyes but no ears; I couldn't help, 
though, listening to what the admiral said to the 
captain when he came on the quarter-deck that first 
afternoon. It was my watch, and I had business 

" ' The admiral had a squint round with his glass 

"'Keeping well together, are we?' he remarked. 

" ' The captain gave a little light sort of a laugh. 

" ' Well, yes, Admiral, I'm not sure that at present 
we aren't a trifle too close together. I hope this isn't 
going to be a kind of a Spanish Armada on a small 

"'Eh? What? Spanish Armada! What are you 
getting at ? ' said the admiral, looking somewhat 
uneasily around him at sea and sky. 

"'Only this, sir. The glass is going tumbling- 
down, and every now and then we have bits of puffs 
of wind. They ain't what you'd call squalls, they 
don't raise white horses, but they're just what we'd 


expect to precede a gale. And note, sir, how red and 
angry-looking the sun goes down.' 

" ' Well, well, well,' said the admiral, ' you're right 
to be careful. So make the signal to shorten and 
trim sail.' 

" ' The Wabash set the example, and in half an hour's 
time every ship in our great fleet was as snug as a 
bran-new hammock. 

" ' But the captain was right, old man, and when I 
turned out to keep the middle watch I was glad to 
get into oil-skins and sou'- wester. It was blowing a 
sneezer, and no mistake. 

" ' We were close-reefed and as close-hauled as we 
could be. The orders to the whole fleet had been to 
keep a good offing, and it seemed to me the old Wabash 
was going tack and half tack out to sea. But the 
Wabash, mind you, is a beautiful creature, and can 
walk to windward of about anything with a keel 
to it. 

" ' My beautiful eyes. Bill and Harry, but it did blow 
just. I had a green sea fair in the teeth when I got 
first on deck, but I staggered bravely on to the 
quarter-deck and received my orders. Speaking- 
trumpets that night were a necessity of life, lad, for 
what with the row and turmoil of the dashing waves, 
the flapping of canvas, the tumbling of the ship and 
groans of her timbers, to say nothing of the rattle of 


rudder chains and wild howling of the wind through 
rigging and shroud, no man's voice could have been 
heard half a fathom's length from his lips. 

" ' I don't think we made much way, and we didn't 
want to. We didn't want to walk away from the rest 
of the fleet, you know. 

" ' I'm a good sailor, Chummy, but I can tell you this, 
I wasn't sorry when eight bells were struck and the 
other watch was called. 

" ' Didn't I sleep sound, though, after it, but lo and 
behold! when I went on deck next morning it wasn't 
blowing quite so much, yet there was hardly a ship of 
all our fleet in sight. It had been a sad night for 
some of them, for several transports were run on 
shore or dashed to pieces on the rocks. 

"'Well, Chummy, that was the storm; now for the 

" ' The Wabash was off Hilton Head, on the south 
side of the entrance to Port Royal, on the 4th of 
November, and soon after we bumped over the bar. 
Yes, bumped is the right word, lad, for we touched 
ground more than once, and with such force too, that 
even the guns seemed to jump sky-high, and men on 
deck were thrown on their faces. 

" ' With the exception of our four lost transports, 
we had now got all together again, and a brave array 
we made. It made my heart beat kind of proudly, 


I can assure you, to look around me and behold so 
gallant a fleet. Ah ! Chummy, when the Northern 
States alone can make so brave a show at sea, what is 
it that North and South combined could not do? But 
this is what it has got to come to. 

" ' Now, my chum, at Hilton Head was a mighty 
earthwork (Fort Walker) with iive-and-twenty huge 
guns, capable, if well-manned, of doing thundering 
execution, and right across here on the northern side, 
about two miles away, was Fort Beauregard. We had 
to smash these two forts, and off Parry Island, higher 
up, was your Confederate fleet of seven ships of war. 

"'Eight hundred of your plucky South Carolina 
soldiers manned these forts when the fight began. 

" ' My station was on the foretop, and my duty to 
see and report everything going on in your lines. I 
daresay your gun-boats wanted to come out, but they 
couldn't. We sent enough of our ships to scare 

" ' It was as pretty a sight as ever I wish to behold. 
We sailed right up the centre, firing at both forts; 
then put about and came thundering down in line 
past Fort Walker, giving them fits ship by ship, first 
our pivot-guns and then our broadsides; then we put 
about again, and repassing Fort Walker at a closer 
range, so as to confuse the beggars, gave them first 
pivot and then port. 


" ' Our ships, you see, thus described an ellipse, and 
soon caused an eclipse, lad, for that fort, by the time 
we had come round on the third tack, was knocked 
into smoorach, the guns anyhow, and the gunners — 
dead, wounded, or flying for their lives. 

"'Then we went to settle our score with Fort 
Beauregard. But the Fort Beauregardians — pretty 
guardians they were! — hardly waited to fire a shot, 
and so they got away with their scalps all on and no 
holes in their skins. 

" ' Don't imagine that this was a bloodless battle. 
We had over fifty killed and wounded — in the whole 
fleet, I mean. One cannon-shot knocked our port bow 
to skirrimush, another deluged our quarter-deck with 
gore, and I saw them hauling dead men to one side, 
and the surgeon, all smothered in blood, and with his 
coat off, putting tourniquets on the wounded. I had 
besfun to think that the battle had come to an end, 
and was thanking my stars I was in so safe a position 
when a beggarly old shot, that seemed to have lost its 
way, came along humming a song to itself. It made 
straight for the foretop, and carried away part of it. 
My eyes ! Chummy, if I hadn't been a Federal, wouldn't 
I have been frightened, just! 

" ' The admiral himself, seeing me pitched out of the 
top, and thrown half-way down the rigging, to which I 
clung like feathers to tar, looked up. 


'"Are you killed, Mr. Midshipman?' he said. 

" ' No, thank you, sir,' I replied, ' not very much. 

" ' The admiral laughed, and the battle raged on. 

" ' Well, Chummy, I now finish off this letter by tell- 
ing you that the Rebs lost five times as many in killed 
and wounded as we did.' " 

This was all the extract that Harry gave from his 
friend's letter, and his own said little more, simply 
ending by praying Osmond and Kenneth to be good 
boys and hurry up to the front. 

It was late next day — that is, it was nine o'clock — 
before Osmond and Kenn got down to breakfast. 

The family were all there, and so was big brawny 
Scotch M'Donald. 

" Ah, boys," he remarked, " j^ou're going to the front 
to fight the foe. May Providence protect you. But 
I'll be happy when this awful war is over. O, sirs, 
it's a fearful thing when brother draws knife on 
brother. D'ye mind what the Psalmist David says, 
and ye know, boys, he was the sweet singer of Israel 
— in my mind, he ranks far above Shakespeare and 
Milton, and next to Burns himself — 

" ' Behold, how good a thing it is, 
And how becoming well, 
Together, such as brethren are, 
In unity to dwell ! ' " 


" Will you ask a blessing, Mr. M'Donald, for I'm sure 
the boys are hungry ? " 

Thus adjured by Mrs. Bloodworth, the manager 
pulled a very solemn face, and, with his great broad 
Scotch bonnet in front of his broad Scotch face, asked 
a blessing as long as an evening prayer. 

The boys listened reverently, however, but I am 
bound to say that they ate almost ravenously when it 
was done. 

For five days Osmond and his friend remained on 
the beautiful plantation, and many a delightful picnic 
and ramble they had with the girls, and, let me add, 
the dogs, by meadow and lake and stream and through 
the great forest itself. 

The dogs were of all sorts and sizes, but chiefly 

At times a fishing expedition was got up on the 
lake, and if they didn't catch many fish they enjoyed 
the rowing, and returned home, happy and hungry, to 
dinner and to spend a long and pleasant evening in the 

It was a jolly time, but, O, so brief ! Somehow, 
happy though he was, Osmond could not help feeling 
that he was doing wrong by staj'ing so long. His 
place was at the front. 

Since their arrival in America many a long, long 


letter had both lads written home to parents and 
friends. From the former they had already received 
replies, and, O, gladsome news! they were forgiven! 

One day Kenneth found Osmond very earnestly 
and energetically engaged with needle and thread and 
a patch. It was in the bedroom that Osmond sat, and 
close to the window. 

Kenneth burst out laughing. 

" 0," he cried, " could you not have got some of the 
black maids to do your sewing. Old Aunt Neile has 
put on a whole lot of buttons for me." 

Os didn't laugh. 

" This is something no one but I can do," he replied. 
" There, you see, it is nearly finished." 

" Why, it's a pocket on the under and left side of 
your waistcoat!" 

"Yes; and do you know what I'm going to stow 
away therein?" 

"Your pocket-book?" 

" No, old man, but mother's last letter and Eva's." 

" Nobody else's ? Come, out with it, you old humbug. 
You're blushing like a tramp at a twopenny roll." 

"Well — yes, a dear wee childish letter from little 
Lucy Brewer." 

"O, by the way," said Kenneth, sitting down by 
his friend's side, "talking about being in love, you 
know — " 


"But who was talking about being in love?" 

" Don't be silly, Os, but listen. Now, do you know 
your Cousin Katherine is about the nicest girl that 
ever I have met during all my long and eventful 

" Long and eventful fiddlesticks, Kenn. You'll tell 
me next you're in love with her." 

" Yes, and truth it is. But I wouldn't say so to her 
for all the world." 

"Ha! ha! How absurd!" 

"And how about sweet Lucy Brewer — is that 

"A child. Come, old man, we'll change the subject." 

" Changed it is, then. Uncle Neile is going to take 
you and me to a 'possum hunt this afternoon." 

"Hurrah! But I daresay it will be rough on the 

" Maybe, but they were given to the darkies for 
food, and they will hunt them." 

At seven o'clock — a bright moon shining in the 
south — Uncle Neile, with Os and Kenn, and the dogs, 
started for the forest. 

It was pretty evident that the dogs had been there 
before, and knew the lay of the land. Anyhow, they 
speedily treed a 'possum. That was got down and 
killed — poor beastie! and then another. After this, I 


think Uncle Neile was about the happiest old nigger 
in all the Southern States. 

" Makes me most laugh to tink ob it," he said. " Now, 
3'^ou, and two tree ob de leetle missies, you come down 
to-night to ole Uncle Neile's cot, and you jes' toast 
'possum foil de fust time, and you nebber, nebber 
fo'get it." 

" We'll be there, Uncle," cried the boys cheerfully. 
"Nine o'clock? All right, we sha'n't forget" 

Nor did they. There was Osmond himself and 
Kenn, and the three eldest cousins, and as they 
marched away in the moonlight towards Uncle Neile's 
little cottage, singing and laughing, they seemed as 
happy a little crew as one could wish to see. 

Even Wolf thought so, for after running on a little 
ahead he would come trotting back and bark at them 
most gleefully. 

Then he would cock his great head and listen; for 
an echo — only it was an Irish one — sounded from 
every part of the plantation, beagles, terriers, and 
collies were barking in response. 

Uncle Neile had lit a few extra candles that night, 
and fastened them in candlesticks round the walls; 
these candlesticks were simplicity itself, for they were 
fashioned out of pieces of dried pumpkin. But there 
was a bright and cheerful lire burning on the hearth, 
and a real table-cloth on the table, which was beauti- 


fully laid out with real knives and real forks and a 
few horn spoons. There was real cider too, and seats 
for all. Auntie Neile herself presided. But old Uncle 
had been the cook. 

Well, really, I must say that the smell of that 'possum 
was very appetizing, and there was pork as well as 
'possum, and big dishes flanked the banquet containing 
vegetables, greens and floury, sweet potatoes, and 
pumpkin pie. 

Before serving out the dainties, Uncle Neile said 
grace. But it wasn't a long one like M'Donald's. I 
have met many niggers, good and holy, but I never 
yet knew one who spent a long time in asking a bless- 
ing when there was a dish of steaming 'possum right 
beneath his nose. 

" Bress de gibber ob all good. Bress His holy name. 
Amen, Amen, ATnen." 

That was Uncle's grace. 

" Now, chil'en," he said, seizing the knife and fork, 
" I'se goin' to serve he out. Dis pore 'possum nebber 
climb de trees no more. Mammy, you serves out de 
pork, and your turn for 'possum'll come soon's de 
chil'en all served. Bress de gibber ob every good 

The "chil'en" being served, Uncle Neile helped 
Auntie and finally himself most liberally. For a time 
he was silent, and so was Auntie also, but it was 

( M 132 ) L 


evident they were thoroughly enjoying themselves, 

" Dis am a feast ob fat things," he said at last, but 
in a reverential tone of voice. " When de prophet he 
speak ob a feast ob fat things, what he mean, Mammy ? 
He mean pork and 'possum. Dis am what his mind 
am a running on, pork and 'possum. Chil'en, put you' 
plates all roun' a secon' time. Den arter dat de pore 
big dog he eat up de fragments." 

But Wolf had already come in for a good share of 
tit-bits, so had Cousin Katie's Scotch terrier, and Uncle 
Neile's cat. 

Well, on the whole, it must be allowed the young 
folks did make a hearty supper. 

After this old Uncle must sing a hymn, which I 
believe would have been almost beautiful had not 
Auntie joined in with cracked and quavering voice all 
out of tune. 

It would have done your heart good, reader, if you 
are at all fond of dogs, to see the satisfaction displayed 
on Wolf's great honest face after he had eaten every 
'possum bone and licked the plates. 

Uncle Neile looked down, with a critical eye, at 
these dishes. 

" Well, Mammy," he said, " de dishes won't hardly 
need no washin'. Bress de gibber ob ebery good 


" And now," he added, " the chil'en will dance." 

He took down his old fiddle as he spoke, and screwed 
it into tune, and started a plantation jig forthwith. 

Wolf took the hint and got out of the way, and 
there were two hours of just as hearty fun as any one 
could wish to see. 

" Now," cried Kenn, " I too can play a jig. Give me 
the fiddle, for, Uncle Neile, I won't be happy unless I 
see you dance with old Mammy." 

"Come erlong then," cried the old man. "Dere is 
life in dis old darkie yet. Come along, Mammy." 

" You mustn't stop till the music stops," cried Kenn. 
Then he struck up a rattling Irish jig, and at it the 
old couple went. 

Such a jig it was too. Osmond confessed the whole 
scene was better than a pantomime, and I fear Kenn 
played longer than he ought to have done, for the 
ancient couple were obliged to sink at last exhausted 
into their rocking-chairs. 

Well, by and by " Auld Lang Syne " was sung, then 
good-nights were said, and so the parting came. 

John M'Donald had come to see them home. 

" On the whole," he said, " what d'ye think, boys, of 
our plantation and our slaves?" 

" I think," said Osmond, " your slaves are ten times 
more happy than our Yorkshire mill-hands." 


The moon had sunk behind the western hills before 
Os and Kenn retired that night. But they were up 
betimes next morning, nevertheless. 

It was their last morning at the old plantation, for 
a time at least, for a party of volunteers passed that 
day for the front, and our heroes joined them 

After they were a long way on the road they looked 
back, and there in the verandah were all Osmond's 
cousins waving their handkerchiefs. 

Then a wood shut out the view, and they saw them 
no more. 



MANY months have gone by since Osmond and 
Kenneth ate 'possum in Uncle Neile's cot at the 
old plantation. 

It is June once more — June, 1862. Osmond has 
had the exceeding good luck to be appointed lieuten- 
ant in the corps in which his two cousins, Harry and 
Will, are serving as captains. He purposely joined 
this regiment as a private, and remained so for over 
three months. He did so rather than take a commis- 
sion in another regiment that would have deprived 
him of the company of those he so loved and respected. 
Besides, he wanted to see service in every phase. 


Very eventful months these had been in more ways 
than one. 

The Federals, by this time, had well recognized the 
fact that if they were to beat the Southerns at all, 
the victory would not be a mere walk-over. It was 
going to cost them deep and dear in blood as well as 
in money. 

Well, if the North and South now hated each other 
more than ever, they had likewise begun to respect 
each other. There was far less boasting now than 
when the war began. 

If the Federals lost a battle, they did not deny it. 

" We were well whipped," they would have told 
you, " but we're going to win next time. You watch 
and see. And," they would have added, " we're going 
to win in the long run too — never mind what it costs 
us — and when the cruel war is over we'll take the 
South by the hand again and say right heartily, 
'Brothers yet!'" 

The New Year of 1862 may be said to have begun 
well for the North, for although they had to give up 
Messrs. Mason and Slidell, whom they had taken off a 
British ship, they won the battle of Mill Springs on 
the 19th day of January. 

The immortal General Grant, whom Scotland right- 
fully claims as a son of her soil, had come upon the 
stage, and the fight for the Mississippi had begun. 


There wasn't much, apparently, that was going to 
stand long in the way of the great Ulysses S. Grant. 

The fight, I say, for the Mississippi had commenced. 

" That river is going to be ours," said the North. 

" Not if we know it," said the South. 

I would like the reader to take a glance at this 
mighty river from its source right away up to nearly 
its mouth. A capital exercise in geography, I can 
assure you. 

Well, as far back as the 7th of November, 1861, 
Ulysses S. Grant had got down nearly to Belmont. 
Here he encountered a force of Confederates, much 
smaller than his own, and had made up his mind to 
utterly annihilate them, when up dashed brave Ex- 
bishop Polk, and the Federals had to retire. Grant as 

Ah! but Grant was the man to make sure and 
certain. He was a canny as well as a daring Scot. 

Well, the Confederates now got together a big army 
in Tennessee, and they also fortified Fort Henry on 
the Tennessee and Fort Donelson on the Cumber- 
land river. They also strengthened and garrisoned 
Fort Pillow and Island No. 10. 

And now the next move of the Confederates was a 
bold dash upon the Federals near to Mill Springs, in 
the south of Kentucky. 

As usual the rush and charge made by the "Rebs", 


as the Federals usually called them, was bold and 
spirited in the extreme. The fight took place early 
on a cold wintry morning, the 19th of January, 1862, 
the movements of the Southern army of about 6000 
having been entirely concealed by the thick white mist 
that lay over all the land. 

Perhaps the Northern army, under General Thomas, 
heard their enemies before they saw them, for the 
latter advanced at the double — I might almost say the 
triple — like the Highlanders of old, with yells and 
wild slogans. 

The Federals could not withstand so terrible a 
charge, and fled in disorder. Not all, however. There 
were brave Western men there from Illinois and Iowa, 
who stood shoulder to shoulder against all the South 
could do. General ZollicofFer, who bravely led the 
"Rebs", fell dead from his horse, but again and again 
they hurled themselves against the sturdy backwoods- 
men. In vain, in vain! and so they fell back at last, 
tired, disheartened, utterly defeated. 

They lost over 400 killed and wounded, and their 
retreat to their entrenchments was very like a rout. 
Here they were shelled, and the Federals, in course of 
the day being greatly enforced, determined on an 
attempt to surround and capture the whole force, but 
during the darkness of the night that followed, the 
Confederates succeeded in escaping. 


Perhaps they had been too sure of victory. Elan 
and dash are grand factors in a fight, and have won 
many and many a battle, but staying power is of even 
greater importance, and the backwoodsmen of Iowa 
possessed this. In fact they did not know what it was 
to be beaten. They had come there to fight; very 
well, they stood there and did fight. That was all. 

Fort Henry was next captured by Grant on the 6th 
of February, and the other fort, Donelson, surrendered 
ten days afterwards to the same general. 

Next came the capture of Nashville, the capital of 
Tennessee itself. 

I must, however, say a word or two about Donelson 
Fort, because its capture was really a great victory for 
the North. 

Soon after the fall of Fort Henry the Confederates 
had increased the garrison in Donelson until it is said 
to have numbered about 20,000 men. 

It was found impossible to reduce the work until it 
was first and foremost bombarded by Admiral Foote's 
gallant little gun-boats. 

Grant had an army of 27,000^ before the fort, 
and he relied upon Foote doing quite a deal to assist 
him, but his gun-boats did very little damage indeed to 
the stronghold, and they were so badly battered, that 
for a time they were obliged to lie off. 

■* Some authorities give his strength as nearly double this. 


The Confederates had done many a phicky thing, 
but they were soon to learn that even pluck becomes 
foolhardiness when not tempered with common sense. 

Grant invested the place now; laid siege to it, in 
fact. He was all the more anxious to capture the 
whole army within it, because one of the generals 
within was Floyd, who had left the Washington 
Cabinet branded as a traitor. 

Grant wanted to talk a little to this man; perhaps 
he meditated hoisting him to some handy tree. How- 
ever that may be, he wanted him. 

But little did Grant know, even then, of the despe- 
rate courage of these Southerners. They made a sortie 
just one hour before sunrise on the 15th of Febru- 

And for a time they succeeded all too well for the 
comfort of Grant and his merry men. They pene- 
trated into the very centre of the camp of the enemy, 
driving regiment after regiment before them in the 
direst confusion, and covering the ground with dead 
and wounded. 

Meanwhile the gun-boats had got the range, and 
played hard and heavy on the Confederate squadrons, 
while Grant, the undaunted, rallied his men, fighting 
as only he could fight, and finally driving back the 
Southerners yard by yard into the fori 

In a day or two after this, seeing that only death 


by starvation would be their doom, the Confederates 

Could they have held out longer? The answer, I 
think, is "Yes". Think of Plevna and many another 
notable siege besides. 

Floyd escaped. He fled. Flying was his strong 
point. Ulysses S. Grant is said to have lowered his 
brows when he heard the news, and bit his lips till 
the blood came. I don't believe, however, that any- 
body does that sort of thing except in books. 

Well, this capture or surrender of Fort Donelson 
caused deleterious changes in the location of the 

As I have already said, Nashville was evacuated, 
and Generals Beauregard and Johnston had to fall 
back through Tennessee to the very borders of Mis- 
sissippi and Arkansas. 

The next fight of any importance in the war was 
the battle of Pea Ridge in Arkansas. It was really a 
three-day fight, and here fell the brave Confederate 
General M'Culloch. 

It was indeed a terrible tulzie, but ended in the 
retreat, and therefore in the defeat, of the Southerners. 
But victory had cost the Northerners over 1000 men. 

Still more furious and terrible fighting was soon to 
follow, and did follow on the 4th of April. 

Before, however, saying a word about the clash of 


arms at Pittsburg Landing, I must tell you the story 
of the Merrimac. 

Kenneth Reid had joined the Confederate navy, 
after having been stationed for some time in a coast 
port. He joined with the rank of lieutenant. Nowa- 
days he would be dubbed gunnery-lieutenant in my 
own service — the Royal Navy — and he really was an 
excellent gunnery man. 

My information concerning the doings of the 
Merrimac are culled from letters that now lie before 
me from Kenneth to his friends. No portion of any 
of these letters has ever yet been published, but I am 
under no restrictions to suppress anything they con- 
tain, and indeed most of their contents belongs to 
history itself. 

The letter is dated May 15th, 1862. 

" Dear Boys Three, — At long last I have found time 
to write you. Twenty times, if once, I have before 
now begun a letter to you and assured myself it was 
going to be a long one, but, alas! it never advanced 
farther than a few lines. 

"Well, while you are still 'in camp and tented 
field' I am afloat in a gun-boat. Yes, a gun-boat, 
boys. Terrible down-come you will say from life in 
the brave, big, though ugly Merrimac, with which we 
had determined to humble the pride of the North at 
sea. But heigh-ho! I sigh to her memory. The Mer- 


riTYiac is the pride of our hearts no longer. She is 
gone, and I and my brave messmates are like the 
children in Mrs. Hemans' poems, you know — 

" ' Severed far and wide 
By mount and stream and sea '. 

I daresay that you have already heard of some of our 
bold doings in and with the Merrimac, but my version 
may be more home-like. 

" Well, boys, it appears that the Federals have been 
for a long time labouring under the impression — 
delusion I call it, and I think I am not far out — that 
they have just as many friends in the South as in the 
North. They evidently quite made up their minds 
about North Carolina. If they could but succeed, 
they thought, in landing an army there, the people 
would welcome them right and left, and flock around 
their standard. 

"And so, you see. General Burnside — and a right 
brave fellow I believe him to be, albeit an enemy to 
our cause — was despatched from Maryland early in 
February with a perfect armada and an army of 
20,000 men. They sailed south and away along the 
coast till they came to Roanoake Island, and round 
this they steered to land in Albemarle Bay by the 
Croatan Sound, the strip of water 'twixt the island 
and the mainland. They had, however, our forces by 


land and sea to reckon with. We had three forts on 
Roanoake and a fleet of gun-boats behind a long line of 
piles and sunken ships. Instead of coming on to fight 
us by sea, the Federal armada contented itself with 
bombarding our forts from sea, one of which they set 
on fire. So the desultory fight went on all day long, 
and in the afternoon some of Burnside's troops at- 
tempted a landing under the protection of the guns of 
the ships. It was a plucky thing to attempt, for just 
where they struck land was a dismal swamp, while 
the shore was mud. There was but little resistance 
offered by our few soldiers, who depended more on 
the forts and gun-boats. 

" A dark and dismal night closed in shortly after 
sunset. The rain came down in torrents, but still the 
disembarkation was continued until nearly 10,000 
troops were in the marsh. 

" I suppose General Burnside thought that anything 
would be a pleasant change to the gloom and discom- 
fort of so awful a night, so the order to advance on the 
fort was given. They marched in three divisions, 
one along the road, preceded by a howitzer battery, 
the other two through the swampy woods on each 

"Let an evil story be soon told, boys. The Con- 
federates, under a heavy fire, rushed boldly forth to 
attack the centre of the attacking force, and fought 


for a time without perceiving that they were out- 
flanked on both sides by the right and left divisions. 

" Victory soon declared itself now on the side of the 
enemy, and we were driven to the mainland. But 
Burnside, in the capture of Roanoake, had made him- 
self possessor of five or six forts, with all their guns 
and small arras, and no less than 2000 prisoners. 

" This was a very good beginning to a winter's 
morning. The Federals made themselves as snug as 
possible now for a few weeks, and I don't blame them. 

" By and by they landed on the mainland, and near 
Newbery encountered us once again. Our positions 
were well entrenched, but though we fought like wild 
cats for three hours and a half we were whipped 

"Heigh-ho! it sounds as if it were all whipping, 
doesn't it, soldiers? 

" But wait a bit till I tell you about the Merrimac." 



rriHE Merrhnac, you must know, then, boys, was a 
-*- resurrection ship, to begin with. Don't you 
understand? Well, the fact is, that at the time the 


navy dockyards at Norfolk came into the possession of 
the Confederates, this very ship, then a powerful frigate, 
was sunk. But she was raised again by our clever 
engineer, and converted into a splendid ironclad, with 
guns of extra power, and sides so slanting that the 
enemy's shot would glance oflf her like rain off a duck's 

" I can tell you, lads, I was a precious proud young 
fellow when I found myself appointed to this iron 
ship of war. My commander was Captain Buchanan, 
a thorough sailor, and a dashing, dare-devil fellow. 
No one could have been better suited for the work. 

" It took quite a long time to get all ready, but on 
the 8th of March we came down the river Elizabeth, 
accompanied by two steam tenders, and made for the 
mouth of the James River, where, at Hampton Roads, 
were anchored the Northern navy ships Congress and 

" As we came down the river and made for the open 
water, people who saw us rubbed their eyes and 
stared — rubbed them and stared again. Well, we 
certainly looked a grim and awful spectre. Never 
mind; we were going to fight, and not a heart on 
board was there that did not beat high with hope and 

"The Merrimac as yet, remember, was but an ex- 
periment. How could we tell that the broadsides of 


the enemy would not tip the plates from off one side, 
and cast us on our beam ends, or cause us to turn 
turtle and sink like a stone? 

" It was well on in the afternoon before we got 
round to Hampton Roads. 


" That little line of stars, boys, is put down there 
by way of giving me breathing time. I call them 
stars; printers, I think, call them asterisks; girls call 
them kisses. This is a joke; but ah! friends, friends, 
when I think of that terrible fight in Hampton Roads, 
there is little joking in my head. Till that afternoon, 
when we steamed up to and past the Congress, I had 
known but little of what the horrors of naval warfare 
could amount to. 

" I shudder, boys ! 

" Was it murder ? Again and again do I ask myself 
that question. 

" Is war after all but legalized murder ? Who 
legalized it? Not God, oh surely not God, Osmond! 
But listen. 

" We cared but little — nothing, in fact — for the 
broadside of the sailing ship Congress. The shot fell 
around us, they struck on hull and sides, they glanced 
from off our armour like peas from a boy's pea-shooter. 

" The Cumberland was our first quarry. 

" We were the hawk ; she the helpless bird. 


"'Go ahead at full speed!' 

" Buchanan's eyes seemed to flash tire as we bore 
rapidly down on that doomed sloop of war. 

" We were received with a fire that would have 
sunk a wooden ship or riddled her fore and aft. The 
Gwmberland was a vessel with five-and-twenty guns, 
and nearly four hundred men all told. 

"And now a cheer rises from the bold and daring 
fellows that form our crew. It is half-smothered, 
because we are nearly all below, but even the men in 
the engine-room know what is coming, and grasp at 
the nearest supports. 

" Then our guns ring and roar. Every piece of ord- 
nance we can get to bear upon the enemy we fire. We 
rake her from stem to stern. Then the Merrimacs 
head is turned a few points — next moment — crash! 
our ram has struck her beneath the water-line, the 
blazing coals fly out from under the boilers, our stokers 
and engineers are nearly smothered, but, wrapping 
their heads in wet cloths, bravely do they stick to 
their work. We back off" now; our awful work is 
finished, yet still our great guns roar, and the Cum- 
berland reels backwards and forwards under the force 
of our iron hail. 

" Those on board the Congress look on aghast, as do 
the officers of other ships. That, they think, is no 
ship — it is a fury from regions infernal. 

( yi 132 ) M 


"Yet all honour to brave Captain Morris, who 
fought the Cumberland so well, and to the last. Ah! 
but see, she is sinking now, and now she is down; yet, 
strange to say, the water has not quite engulfed the 
topmasts, and the stars and stripes are left fluttering 
bravely out in the breeze. 

"Is that a bad omen for the Southern cause, I 
wonder ? 

"But oh, the pity of it, boys! for the sick and the 
wounded sink with the living on board that doomed 
sloop of war. 

" Meanwhile the Congress has been run on shore, but 
though this saves her from our terrible ram, it does 
not shield her from the fury of our guns. She is soon 
on fire in several places, and in the confusion and 
darkling of the night more than half her crew of well- 
nigh 500 men perish, are killed or drowned, or — 
horrible ! — roasted alive. 

"At midnight she blows up. But long before this, 
one by one her guns, as they become heated, had gone 
off. There was something solemn in the sound. It 
was like a death-knell for the departed heroes. 
Would you believe it, Osmond, there are tears in my 
eyes as I pen these lines ? If it were you, my romantic 
friend, this would be something not altogether marvel- 
lous. But for me — plain, matter-of-fact Kenn Reid — 
But there, I'll tell you what has brought those tears to 


my eyelashes. It was by reading a poem by Longfellow 
on the ill-fated Cumberland. 

" I know not whether it is yet published ; I have it 
here in manuscript. Shall I write it for you? 

" Oh, you dear old stupid Os, I know you answer 

"At anchor in Hampton Roads we lay- 
On board of the Cumberland, sloop of war; 
And at times from the fortress across the bay, 
The alarum of drums swept past, 
Or a bugle blast 
From the camp on the shore. 

" Then far away to the south uprose 

A little feather of snow-white smoke : 
And we knew that the iron ship of our foes 
Was steadily steering its course, 
To try the force 
Of our ribs of oak. 

" Down upon us heavily runs, 

Silent and sullen, the floating fort , 
Then comes a puff of smoke from her guus. 
And leaps the terrible death, 
With fiery breath. 
From each open port. 

" We are not idle, but send her straight 
Defiance back in a full broadside ! 
As hail rebounds from a roof of slate, 
Rebounds our heavier hail 
From each iron scale 
Of the monster's side. 


"'Strike your flag!' the rebel cries, 

In his arrogant olil ])lantation fitrjiin. 
' Never !' our gallant Morris replies ; 
'It is better to sink than to yield 1' 
And the whole air pealed 
With the cheers of our men. 

"Then, like a kraken huge and black, 

She crushed our ribs in her iron grasp ! 
Down went the Cumberland, all a-wrack, 
With a sudden shudder of death, 
, And the cannon's breath. 
For her dying gasp. 

" Next morn, as the sun rose over the ba}', 
Still floated our flag at tlie mainmast head. 
Lord ! how beautiful was Thy day ! 
Every waft of the air, 
Was a whisper of prayer, 
Or a dirge for the dead. 

" IIo ! brave hearts that went down in the seas I 
Ye are at peace in the troubled stream. 
Ho ! brave laud ! with hearts like these, 
Thy flag, that is rent in twain, 
Shall be one again, 
And without a seam ! 

" Well, boys, on board the Merrimac, we were as 
happy as school-boys, or as happy, Osmond, as old 
Uncle Neile at his 'possum-feast — Oh, don't you re- 
member the old man's face, Osmond, and the delicious 
savoury steam of the 'possum? Wasn't it just too 
awfully lovely for anything ? 


" But bad luck was in store for us. 

" Our intention was now to capture the Minnesota. 
She, however, had got aground while passing up a 
channel, so we could not get near enough to board her, 
although her tenders were crowded with troops for this 

" Little did we know what we had to encounter. For 
a turret-ship suddenly slid ghost-like into view, and 
another vessel, called the Ericson, also came up to do 
battle with us. 

" Brave Buchanan, my captain, had not hesitated to 
expose himself on the night before, and consequently 
he was wounded. So I myself, Osmond, was second in 

" The turret-ship was the Monitor, and she seemed 
perfectly invulnerable. 

"Again and again we tried to ram this terrible 
vessel. Again and again our object was defeated, 
while the shots we poured into or on her did little 
harm. They glanced off her decks or off her turrets, 
just as Longfellow expresses it, like hail off slates. 

"My new captain, in lieu of poor Buchanan, was the 
first lieutenant, Catesby Jones, and surely never did 
man fight better. We were really engaging three at 
one time. The odds were too much, and after doing 
unquestionable damage to all the ships, and killing and 
wounding not a few men — though we ourselves had 


two killed and twenty wounded — we were obliged to 

" We got to Craney Island sadly down by the stern, 
and expecting every minute to sink. 

" If we have done more good, Osmond, than sink- 
ing the Congress and Cumberland it is seen in the fact 
that the Federal Commander-in-Chief M'Clellan will 
hardly now venture to make his way to Richmond by 
the river. 

" Meanwhile I am without a ship proper, for we had 
after all to blow up the dear old ram after M'Clellan's 
success at Yorktown. 

" Not even on paper must I tell you yet, dear Os- 
mond, and boys all, where my gun-boat is bound to. 
But as soon as I can you will hear more. 

" Thine, dear lads, 

" Old Kenn. 

"P.S. — By the way, Osmond, I have heard from 
the old plantation, from Mrs. Bloodworth herself, and 
inside was the shortest and sweetest little note you 
ever read from Katie. I believe, Osmond, I shall 
adopt your plan, and go in for an inner pocket on the 
left side of my waistcoat. 

" Kiss Wolf's great head for me. May the Lord 
keep and guard us all, and change our bad luck, for 


really, Osmond, for the time being our cause seems to 
be under a cloud." 

A cloud had indeed fallen over the fortunes of the 

The Mississippi was lost to them. 

I want you to bear this in mind, reader, and just 
consider for a moment what a loss this was to the 
brave Southerners ! 

I beg of you to bear it in mind. I think my friends 
— and every reader of mine is a very dear friend in- 
deed — I think, I was going to say, that my friends 
will give me the credit of not being a mere matter-of- 
fact, dry-as-dust teacher of history. I want to tell my 
story as I go on, and show what brave young fellows 
like Osmond, his friend, and Osmond's cousins can do 
in a cause they consider righteous and good. But the 
whole story of the American Civil War is a mighty 
romance, and a tragic poem from beginning to end. 

Hurrah ! Then on we go down the Mississippi with 
the Southerners. I told you about the fall of Fort 
Donelson and about the three days' fighting at Pea 
Ridge, which cost the Federals so much of the blood of 
their very bravest men. 

Well, Beauregard, our old friend, took command in 
the West. He was cautious enough to restrain himself 
until he had thoroughly reorganized his force. He 


said that he had come for the express purpose of 
bringing the Federals to book for the reverses they had 
caused to the South. 

General Albert Sidney Johnston was put in supreme 
command of the army of the Mississippi, and with hiui 
were Generals Polk and Hardee. 

Those names are difficult to stow away in one's 
memory if one is a Britisher, but we must try, because 
they may pop up again now and then when least ex- 

And now came a little ray of light through the dark 
cloud that was hovering over the Confederate fortunes. 

Grant, after recruiting till his army was well-nigh 
50,000 strong, crossed the Tennessee, and established 
himself at Pittsburg Landing. 

" The enemy is not so powerful," he told one of his 
generals, " as to attempt to attack us." 

" No," was the reply; " they are not such fools." 

As it turned out, it was good for the Confederates 
that Grant was of this opinion. 

But at dawn of day on April the 6th the Southerners, 
under brave Beauregard, came up, and fell like an 
avalanche upon the astonished Federals. 

It may be observed that the Confederates were fond 
of an early morning attack. In this respect General 
Beauregard resembled Bonnie Prince Charlie when he 
went to interview Johnnie Cope at Prestonpans. The 


Highlanders were down upon Johnnie before he had 
time to rub his eyes, so he at once made his feet his 
friends and ran. 

But Grant himself belonged to an old Highland clan, 
and there wasn't much run about him. To use an 
Americanism, " he didn't scare worth a cent ". 

Yet so sudden and terrible was the onslaught that 
there was not only no time to strike tents and form 
into battle array, but these were actually riddled 
with bullets, and officers were shot in their beds, the 
wounded lying helpless and glued to the ground with 
their blood, through all the fearful two- days' fight. 

Federal General Sherman — who hasn't heard of this 
hero? — was worth an army in himself. It was his 
corps that had to withstand the first and most awful 
shock of battle, but on his horse he was here, there, 
and everywhere. He was wounded at last, however, 
and then his shattered regiments retired in con- 

In this hot battle, and in the centre of it, was bold 
young Osmond Lloyd, and not far off' were his cousins 
Harry and Will. 

Osmond's sword had already been drawn on the 
field of strife, but this was in reality his baptism of 
fire and blood. 

What a day that was! The battle had lasted for 
twelve long hours, and Grant and his Federals were 


utterly routed. He had lost his artillery, and over 
3000 prisoners were taken. 

What a day! Yes, and a sad one too, for the 
Southerners had their head General, Albert Sidney 
Johnston, killed in the fight. Sword in hand fell he 
towards the close of the battle. 

And the boy-soldiers, Harry and Will, had to sit 
that night beside the prostrate form of their dear 
father. He had been shot through the thigh while 
bravely leading a charge, and surgeons had amputated 
the limb on the ground where he lixy. 

The Confederates slept on the field of fight, Beaure- 
gard, who had now assumed the chief command, having 
determined utterly to annihilate Grant and his forces 
next day. 

Beauregard swore he would. 

Alas! man but proposes; it is God who disposes. 

During the night, while the Confederates lay asleep 
among their dead and wounded, Grant received the 
reinforcements he had been waiting for, and thus the 
Southern general had next morning to fight a fresh 

He was forced, therefore, to retreat to Corinth, 
whence he had come. 

The Confederates retired slowly, and in good 
order. There was no rout, no Bull Run business, 
but, on the whole, the two days' terrible fighting 


can only be looked upon as a disaster to the Southern 

If you cast your eye on the map, reader, well up the 
Mississippi, about the place where Kentucky, Missouri, 
and Tennessee meet, it will alight on the city of Madrid, 
and near it at an elbow of the great river is Island 
No. 10. That isle was so strongly fortified that it was 
termed the Key of the Mississippi. It was given up 
by the Confederates, after a lengthened bombardment, 
about the same time as the great battle was raging be- 
twixt Grant and Beauregard. 

The Federal gun-boats on the Mississippi were quite 
a feature in the American Civil War. It was chiefly 
owing to them that the key to the river had to be 
given up, though between ourselves, and in my poor 
judgment, it might have been defended for an in- 
definite period. 



WHEN the Confederates retreated once more to 
strongly fortified Corinth, which, from its 
position, was considered one of the strategic points of 


the Mississippi campaign, they meant to hold it ag-aiust 
all the power that could be brought against them. 

So said Beauregard. 

Most, if not all, the wounded were borne back to 
Corinth. Their comrades nursed them as tenderly as 
if they had been children. But deaths from the fear- 
ful nature of the wounds occurred every day. 

Seeing the anxiety of Harry and Will for their poor 
father, the young surgeon, who amid the roar and din 
of the battle had so skilfully amputated the limb, was 
kindness itself to them. 

But Major Bloodworth's case seemed for many days 
to be almost hopeless. He had not only lost much 
blood to begin with, but had lain long on the battle- 
field before it was possible to move him. 

Few, indeed, can imagine the sufferings that wounded 
men left unattended on the field of battle undergo. 
They are struck down suddenly, they fall as a rule in 
a heap, or outstretched, with arms extended, and pro- 
bably face downwards. If they are insensible their 
chance of life is small indeed, for they are oftentimes 
supposed to be dead because motionless, and may then 
be trodden under foot by advancing men or horses. 
But supposing even that their regiment passes on and 
leaves them in the rear, it may be quite a long time 
before the ambulance company finds and bears them 
away. And during the time they lie there their 


physical sufferings may be acute and even extreme. 
They may writhe, and groan, and bleed, sometimes 
biting even their own hands to the bone in their 
agonies, while thirst is sometimes so great that they 
will suck their very jackets in their vain efforts to 
assuage it. The cry of the severely wounded is nearly 

" Oh, water! water! water!" 

Some poor wretch not far off may have a canteen, 
and if he can crawl towards another wounded brother 
he never fails to do so, and holds the vessel to his head 
that he may drink. 

Wounded men who cannot be immediately attended 
to will sometimes try to assist each other to the extent 
of binding a handkerchief around a wound, or putting 
on a rude tourniquet with a pocket-handkerchief and 
a piece of wood. 

So much for physical pain, but mental suffering is 
nearly always great, anxiety at times extreme — that 
is, among those who are sensible. Others rave about 
their far-off homes and relatives — their wives, their 
sisters, or their sweethearts; while others again are 
past all that, and on the battle-field it is not an un- 
common thing to hear ravings that are almost, if not 
quite, maniacal, or wild bursts of laughter alternating, 
in the same individual, with sobs of hysterical grief 
and tears. 


I do not think that the sufferings of the wounded 
on a great battle-field ever could be graphically told; 
but were this possible, few who read such a narrative 
would long for their country to go to war with a 
foreign power. 

Would Major Blood worth die? 

Over and over again did both Harry and Will put 
that question to the surgeon. He only shook his head. 
Doctors are not omniscient. He would rather not 
venture on an ojDinion. Their father's age, however, 
he told them, was somewhat against him. 

Either Harry, Will, or Osmond sat in his tent all 
night with the poor major. He was never insensible, 
even from the first. He knew his sons, knew Osmond, 
and knew even big Wolf, who, singular to say, had 
never left the wounded major's side for half an hour 
at a time, night or day. 

One evening, while Osmond sat quietly reading by 
the light of a lantern. Major Bloodworth awoke. He 
had been dozing uneasily. 

" I'm very cold," he said. " Is it you, Harry?" 

" No, it is Osmond." 

He feebly stretched out his right hand, which 
Osmond took in his. 

It was as cold and hard as marble. 

" Os," he said, in a voice so low that our hero could 
scarcely hear him, "you are good and brave. May 


God bless you, boy, and help our bleeding country — I 
— feel I am dying." 

" Would you like to see the doctor, dear uncle?" 

" No— the boys. Go." 

Osmond, with sorrow and fear at his heart, rose 
and silently left the tent. 

It was a beautiful night, a half-moon shimmering 
white and low in a rift of darkest blue near the 
horizon; away to the south and the east the stars 
shining as brightly as ever he had seen them. 

It was mild and warm too, and the few trees about 
were dressed already in garments of silken green. 

But this was no time to stay to admire scenery. He 
must haste to his cousins' tent. Both were sound 
asleep as usual beneath the same wraps and rugs. 

He must wake them to grief and sorrow. 

"Boys! Cousins!" 

They started up at once. 

" Your father, I fear, is — is not so well." 

" He is dying!" cried Will at once. 

Harry had burst into tears, 

"Oh, Father! oh. Father!" he wailed, "and must we 
lose the dearest dad on earth?" 

" That you won't." 

It was the voice of someone right behind Osmond, 
and next moment the doctor's cheerful face looked 


"Come if you like, boys," he said; "but I've just 
been at the major's tent, and he has taken a change." 

"He will die?" 

" On the contrary, with care he will live." 

" The Great Father bless you, doctor." 

The boys hurried on their topcoats now, and back 
all four went to the tent. 

Major Blood worth had fallen into a kind of a doze, 
but when Harry put his finger on his wrist he opened 
his eyes. 

He was quite sensible now. 

" It was foolish and selfish of me to take you from 
your rest," he began. 

" No, no, no, dear Father," from both boys. 

" And," Harry added, " we sha'n't leave you to-night. 
No, Osmond, you can finish your vigil; but after we 
have talked to Father for a little we shall both bunk 
up on your floor, and I guess that is the correct thing 
to do." 

"You feel a little better. Father?" 

" Not so cold, boy, not so cold. If I die you will 
see to the old plantation when this wicked war is 
over, and to mother and your sisters. Oh, Harry, I 
would give all I possess to be at home just for one 
brief hour." 

"For one brief hour. Father?" said Will. "I move 
that we talk of home, and it will be almost the same." 


And so they did. 

But this was the turning point in the wounded 
major's sad case. Every day now he got stronger, 
and some days before Corinth fell, which it did on the 
30th day of May, he was well enough to be moved. 
But whither? This was determined by Harry him- 
self, with the sanction of his general. 

Corinth was not much over 200 miles from the old 
plantation. Why, thought Harry, should he not be 
taken home. 

An orderly entered General Halleck's tent one morn- 
ing with a strange report. The general, I may mention, 
was chief in command of the Federal army, that, after 
the great battle of Pittsburg Landing had crept slowly, 
on to Corinth after the Confederates. Grant had been 
placed second in command, having incurred Halleck's 
displeasure. Halleck blamed his foolhardiness for 
bringing about the great two-days' fight. Had he 
but waited for his reinforcements, the Southerners, 
said Halleck, would not have gained the first day's 
battle. Probably they would not have attacked at all. 

Halleck was right, I believe, but nevertheless he 
himself would have been none the worse for just a 
little spice of Grant's fire and impulsiveness. Had he 
possessed this, instead of crawling to Corinth he could 
have dashed on it and captured it easily, for though 
the battlements extended out and in for about fifteen 

( M 132 ) N 


miles, the place was not so strong as it looked, and 
many of the guns were what is called " quakers ". 
Quakers at their meetings only speak when the spirit 
moves them. Well, no spirit would ever move these 
guns to talk, for they were wooden dummies. 

"A Confederate officer with a flag of truce?" said 
Halleck, looking up from his writing. "Show him in; 
he may be a spy. Better take every precaution, ser- 

" That's so, General." 

Next minute Harry entered boldly and made his 

The general seemed pleased. 

" You are very young to be fighting against your 
country," he said. 

" For my country," answered Harry, smiling. 

" We'll waive that. Your business, boy? Has your 
general made up his mind to surrender?" 

" General Beauregard doesn't surrender worth a cent, 
sir. No, I have presumed to come here on business of 
my own.' 

"You are brave!" 

" Fairly, I think." 

" And how do I know you are not a spy?" 

" General, you are a student of character, and you 
know I am not." 

Harry then told his story, simply but pathetically. 


He wanted a pass that would take him with a few 
men as escort through the Federal lines with his 
wounded father. 

General Halleck laughed heartily, but not unfeel- 

" Sit down, boy, sit down. There are cigars and 
brandy. What, you touch neither? Well, I admire 
your filial devotion and also your courage. You have 
indeed put your head into the lion's mouth. Had I 
doubted you, I'd have had you shot at sunrise. Yes 
you can have the pass. Heigh-ho!" he sighed, as he 
began to write, " pity such brave young fellows as you 
should ever be lost to the Union." 

The pass was written, and with a happy heart now 
Harry thanked the general over and over again and 
took his leave. 

The pass was worded to take him and his escort to 
his father's home, and on thence to his regiment when- 
ever that might be, for he and Osmond had been but 
lent to Beauregard. 

Osmond was the first to meet him on his return, 
and Wolf greeted him most effusively. The great dog- 
had evidently known from instinct that Harry had 
gone on a dangerous expedition, so his joy at his return 
knew no bounds. 

" You'll let me choose your escort, Harry," said Os- 
mond; "won't you?" 


" Certainly, Os, if you wish to." 

When, therefore, the spring cart with its sturdy 
horse, in which the wounded major was to travel, drew 
up at the tent door, and with Will and Harry's assist- 
ance their father was laid tenderly within it, only three 
of the escort presented themselves. 

But the other came immediately after. 

It was Osmond himself, dressed in sergeant's uniform. 

" I could not help it," he said. " I've got a leave, 
and felt I must come with you." 

" Well," said Harry, " wonders will never cease." 

There were more wonders to come, for after they 
had got fully three miles eastwards and away from 
the Federal lines, just at a place where the road took 
a dip into a wood, and a clear, purling spring of water 
came laughing and singing and gurgling with seeming 
delight from a crevice in a rock, they found an old 
white-haired nigger quenching his thirst, while near 
him on the mossy bank was a negress that looked like 
his wife. 

Osmond, Harry, and two of the escort were riding, 
the other man driving the cart. But now the whole 
cavalcade reined up. 

Harry leapt from his horse at once and extended 
both hands to the negro. 

"Why, Uncle Neile," he cried, "this is a joyful sur- 
prise ' " 


"Eh! What? Is it Massa Henry? My ole eyes not 
done gone deceive me? Auntie, Mammy, look, look! 
Heah am young massa, and heah in de cart am ole 
massa too. Bress de Giver ob ebery good thing. 
Bress— " 

Old Uncle Neile could say no more. He just burst 
into a flood of joyful tears. 

Then he seemed to recover himself all at once. 

" Jes' one moment, Massa Henry," he said, " till I 
'gage in prayer." 

And down he knelt by the spring to engage in 
prayer. He was up again in a very short time. 

" I jes' done go thank de good Lawd briefly," he ex- 
plained. " By and by I thank him mo' and mo'." 

Mammy was as happy as Uncle, and hardly could 
she take her eyes ofl" Harry except now and then to 
have a look at Osmond. 

"Boys, you does grow, for sartain!" she said at last. 

After Uncle Neile and Auntie Mammy had talked 
for a short time to Major Blood worth, who had begged 
of Harry to raise him up that he might feast his eyes 
on the old couple, they condescended to briefly account 
for their presence. 

Mrs. Bloodworth's grief on receipt of the intelli- 
gence concerning her husband's dangerous condition 
had been very great. 

" Oh, my poor husband!" she had wailed. " Could I 


be but near him. I would walk the distance on bare 
feet but to look on his face once more!" 

Then, when more composed, she had sat down to 

" This letter may never reach him," she mourned, 
as she sealed it up, 

" An' den," said Uncle, addressing Harry, " I jes' 
step fo'ward. At fust she think she no let me go. I 
die on de road. I too ole. De snakes kill me, and 
oder things kill me. I die in many different ways. 
All de same, she let me come, and heah we are. Fust 
I want to come all by mysel', but Mammy she not 
heah ob such a thing. ' No, no,' she cry, ' w'ere you 
goes, I go. De dangers ob de road am not suited fo' a 
pore ole nigger like you wit'out your Mammy.' So 
Mammy come erlong. Ah! I not know what I do 
but for Mammy!" 

Then Uncle Neile opened his two coats — winter or 
summer the old man always wore two, and sometimes 
three — and took therefrom letters for the Major, for 
Harry, and also for Os. 

" Oh, I tell you what I propose," cried the latter. 
"Don't read your letter now, Uncle, till we halt for 
the forenoon." 

"Good idea, boy, good idea!" said the Major, and 
the letters were kept. 

But Mammy was now accommodated with a seat 


beside her invalid master. Very tired the poor old 
woman was, though she was too spirited to own it. 
But their long and tedious, not to say dangerous, 
journey, proves, I think, that in those days even 
slaves could spare love for a master and mistress who 
treated them kindly. 

And yet the foundation on which slavery was built 
was one of blood and tears. There is, I think, no gain- 
saying that fact. 




HERE was far more danger to Osmond and his 

-■- party on this strange and adventurous journey 
than there had been to old Uncle and Mammy. The 
woods in some parts were known to be infested with 
road -agents, alias filibustering robbers. Their real 
home was in the Far West, but vultures ever hover 
round where blood is spilt. The roughest highway- 
man, however, that ever rode would hardly have 
harmed the old negro and his companion. Their very 
innocence was their best protection. But now, as 
Uncle trotted along beside Osmond and Harry, he 
kept them very much interested indeed with a rela- 
tion of his adventures. 


" Nobody ever refuse Mammy aud dis chile a good 
supper," he said. " Den we always find a bed, mos'ly 
wi' odder niggers, sometimes in a farmer's barn. Oh, 
eberybody good to us, bress His name." 

" And even the road-agents didn't molest you ? " 
" Oh, no, not edzactly moles', you know ; on'y one 
night we bery, bery late, and de road bery, bery 
lonely. I think dat night we had to sleep on de road- 
side among de snakes. But by 'n by we see a light 
in de wood. Fust we a leetle 'flaid, but all de same 
we bery hungry. So we enter de wood hand in hand, 
jus' like two chil'en. Yes, dey were ribbers right 'nutf, 
and dey all sit roun' de big fire and laugh and talk and 
drink. Dey laugh much mo' when dey see us, But 
dey kind 'nuff" all same. Dey Call us de darkie patri- 
archs, den dey make us eat and drink, too much wine 
p'laps, 'cause arter dat dey make us sing. I try one 
hymn, but dey not like he, so I sing ' De Ole Planta- 
tion Home', and Mammy she sing too. Den eberybody 
laugh. Dey gib us mo' wine, and make Mammy 
dance. Oh, Mammy did dance! and de robbers tumble 
up their heels, dey laugh so much. Den — " 
"Well," said Harry laughing, "what next?" 
" Oh, nufiin next. Somehow it come mo'nin' all at 
one, and de fire out and de robbers gone, but dey hab 
leab us plenty to eat. Bress de Giver ob ebery good 




The sun was shining very brightly from a sky of 
ethereal blue, the ferns and flowers nodded in the 
woods, and the birds filled every glen and dell with 
their wild sweet music. It was a day to make the 
saddest heart rejoice, a day that bi'ought one nearer 
to Nature and into closer union with Nature's God. 

Perhaps it was some feeling of the kind that kept 
Osmond silent now for quite a long spell. 

Suddenly Hany, w^ho was riding on a little way 
ahead, cried "Halt!" and the cavalcade drew up under 
the welcome shadow of a huge clump of trees. What a 
tanglement of beauty it was, to be sure, for a cluster 
of pines grew side by side with oaks and chestnuts, 
and over all ran gigantic wistaria, adorning even their 
topmost branches with huge bunches of lavender- 
coloured flowers. 

As they were dining in this delightful sylvan shade 
a party of Federal soldiers on foot suddenly swept 
round the bend of the road. 

Harry made no movement, satisfied in his own 
mind that they would respect the little white flag 
that fluttered from the cart. 

And so they did. The captain of the party, after 
looking at Harry's pass, throwing himself down and 
talking both pleasantly and friendly while he smoked 
a cigar. 

" Wall," he said, with somewhat of a Yankee drawl, 


" I guess there's errors on both sides. Pity ever we 
should have drawn the sword! But have you heard 
the latest?" 

" I don't know what you may call the 'latest'," said 

" Oh, there's lots of latest. 'Way dov*^n South, you 
know. Admiral Farragut has given your navy fits, 
smashed and burned every one of them, and he's cap- 
tured New Orleans. He, I mean, and Butler and 

" Well, Farragut is on his way up-stream to Vicks- 
burg. That's going to come down by the run." 

" Query," said Harry. 

"Never a query, captain; and your Fort Pillow in 
Tennessee falls too in a few days, and Memphis goes 
next. Oh, I 'low Vicksburg is going to take a bit of 
potting, but it's going to be ours. Then we'll have 
captured the whole Mississippi." 

"Any more news?" 

" Oh, lots. Just listen. I'm betraying no confidences, 
ye know; only relating accomplished facts. Wa-al, 
then, I 'low you've got a good man in your Stonewall 
Jackson and a brave, and he's been doing all a brave 
man can do in the Shenandoah Valley. Ah! there'll 
be more fun there yet. But your Stonewall had to 
retreat when he tried to cross swords with us near 
Winchester — not at Winchester; I'm coming to that. 


"Meanwhile," continued the Northerner, "our 
M'Clellan is proving himself a hot one. Your Merri- 
mac iron ram spoiled him from getting up the James 
River or to Richmond. Here it is." The Northerner 
was drawing a rough plan — "Washington, the Poto- 
mac, Richmond — Manassas, all as plain as your big 
dog's head. And here you see is the Peninsula be- 
tween York and James Rivers. 

" Well, with the army of the Potomac our M'Clellan 
comes straight on to Manassas. He thought to find 
your fellows there. But you had fled." 

"Retreated, eh?" 

" Wall, I guess that is a trifle more polite. But 
with his whole army Mac now sailed down the Poto- 
mac here to the Peninsula there; and there he landed 
60,000 strons;, and soon he was nearer 80,000. A 
glance at my map here'U show you he had only to 
clear the rebels — ahem! — pardon me, the Confederates 
out of the Peninsula to march eastward across to your 

"That was all," said Harry, smiling. "Not much, 
was it?" 

" Ah, well, there were 15,000 of your fellows to bar 
the way, and I must say that your Magruder, who 
commanded them, was worth about 10,000 more. 

" Now, sir, here was your Magruder's trick, and he 
played it prettily. Wa-al, as you don't seem to like 


the word trick, we'll call it strategy. He extended 
his army across the Peninsula in sucli a way that 
M'Clellan was too cautious and canny to assault. He 
trusted to siege. So Magruder played him as it were, 
while an army was being got together for the defence 
of your City of Richmond — soon to be ours." 

Even the invalid Major laughed at this. 

" Wa-al, I guess it is, but never mind. When Ma- 
gruder had played his cards he quietly retreated. 

" After this our M'Clellan seized Yorktown on the 
edge of the Peninsula, and then on the 5th of May 
we met — yes, I was there under Fighting Joe^ — a 
whole legion of Reb — er — Confeds at Williamsburg, 
led on by your General Joseph Johnstone — your brave 
Albert Sidney Johnston fell in battle, you know, at 
Pittsburg Landing." 

"Where poor Father there was so fearfully wounded." 

" Well, General Joseph fought like a panther, and I 
guess you know, if we hadn't been reinforced 'twould 
have gone hard against us. But he retreated after 
dark, and our M'Clellan followed him up toward 

" And that's all the news of importance," continued 
the captain, "and now I'm off. My name's Spott, 
with two t's, and if ever we meet again, why, we'll 
know we've met before. Au revoir. So long." 

1 General Hooker, 


He lifted his hat, his men sprang up, and in a few 
minutes all had disappeared. 

Letters were now read, and for a time there was 
silence in the little wayside camp. 

One of Osmond's was from his mother, the other 
from Eva, and there "vvas also a brief business-like 
epistle from big, honest Dick. I need hardly tell you 
what Eva's and Mrs. Lloyd's were like, loving and 
longing, as such letters always are. Oh, what would 
life be worth to the soldier, sailor, or wanderer, were 
there no dear ones at home, no old-fashioned fireside 
to look back to wherever one is, in African wilds or 
Indian shores, or far away in the wild, wild north, or 
in regions of ice and snow. 

" My dear boy," said Dick, "you were always an im- 
pulsive young rascal, and fonder of the greenwood tree 
than your books. Ah! well, anyhow, your dear daddie 
and I are glad you are safe and doing so well. Think 
of us often, and don't forget to pray. You'll return 
some day to the old home, and won't we welcome you 
just. But, boy, business is slack with us now. The 
dust you are raising out in Yankeeland is smothering 
ijs here, and if things don't take a turn, we'll have to 
close the grand old mill. You would look astonished, 
wouldn't you, if you saw your brother Dick march 
into your camp some day? Well, well, we hope for 
the best. Father sends his love. There was damp- 


ness on the old man's eyelashes, lad, as there nearly 
always is when he speaks of you. Ah! how he loves 
you. Your mother says I am to tell you to keep out 
of danger — just like a mother, ain't it? — I told her 
that I'd give you the message, and that you'll be cer- 
tain to hide in a tree on fighting days till the battle 
is over. Good-bye, boy. Come back when you can." 

When he looked up, he found that Harry was 

" Got bad news," his father said, and the poor Major 
himself looked sad. 

He pointed to the wood as he spoke, and Wolf and 
Osmond went to look for him. Wolf took his master 
straight to the tree at the foot of which his poor 
cousin sat. 

He had been crying, and even now, though there 
was a smile on his lips, he looked as if a single word 
of sympathy would cause the tears to flow afresh. 

"Poor Charlie and John!" he said, as he handed 
Osmond the letter. 

" Nay, I cannot read it." Osmond's own eyes were 
swimming now. " Are they — ?" 

"Dead! Yes, both fell fighting together back to 
back in the thickest of the battle. Oh, the bitter- 
ness of this cruel war! But our cousins fell as men, 
Os, and as Englishmen. For they were true Blood- 


Osmond stood up now erect and manly. He brushed 
his hand across his eyes. 

"We have our duty to do, Os," he said; "let us 
not think of grief till — till night. Our cousins died a 
soldier's death and are now far beyond the reach of 
woe. I for one would not seek to recall them." 

" Nor I," said Os. Then the cousins shook hands, 
and as their eyes met they felt nearer to each other 
now than ever. 

It was at the battle of Winchester that their cousins 
had fallen. 

" Thank God we were not there to fight against 
them," said Osmond. 

"Amen!" said Harry. 

The fact is that on the 18th of May the immortal 
Stonewall Jackson had won a great battle at the 
place mentioned. 

The movements of this spirited soldier were daring 
in the extreme. He had been keeping at bay four 
armies — M'Dowell who commanded at Fredericksburg, 
Sigel at Manassas, Milroy on his left-hand side, i.e. 
west among the mountains, and Banks in the Shen- 
andoah Valley in front of him. 

Now, readers, just think of the dilemma this warrior 
was in. If he went north up the glen to fight Banks, 
Milroy from the left would close in on the rear, and 
if defeated he would be caught like a rat in a sack; 


and if he retreated then Banks and Milroy wonld 
join and he should lose the valley which he had de- 
termined to keep at any price. 

So he resorted to a stratagem worthy of the great- 
est general that ever lived. 

He pretended to retreat eastwards through a gap. 

"Ha!" cried Banks to one of his generals next 
day, "so Stonewall Jackson has gone, bag and bag- 

" Yes, he's off, sir. We will follow him to Rich- 
mond ? " 

" That we will," said Banks, " as soon as Milroy tails 
on. Now we'll give the Rebs Jericho!" 

Stonewall Jackson, however, described an ellipse, 
and surprised Milroy on his march to join Banks. 

"'Mercy! how they fought and struggled and bled! 
It was here' — I am quoting from Osmond's cousin 
Tom's letter — ' where my dear brothers fell, and here 
where they lie buried near a great oak-tree on which 
I have blazed a cross and their initials. 

"'Well, Stonewall Jackson smashed Milroy, and 
afterwards Banks himself — first one part of the army, 
then the other, and larger.' " 

" So," said Osmond, " we are not so much beaten 
as Captain Spott with two t's would have us to 

" Perhaps," said Harry charitably, " he had heard 


nothing of all this. But Banks's whole army of 15,000 
is all but totally annihilated, and all the stores and 
ammunition fell into our hands." 

I must add as historian that in Turner Ashby 
Stonewall Jackson had an officer who has well been 
designated the bravest of the brave. But he exposed 
himself all too freely, hardly realizing the value of 
his own life to the army. 

He was here, there, and everywhere, sword and 
revolver in hands, wherever the fight raged most 

And so he fell near the very spot at which Charlie 
and John were cut down. 

After the total defeat of Banks, Stonewall Jackson 
went to prayers. " After battle, prayers." That was 
one of Stonewall Jackson's mottoes. He was a Puritan 
of the good old school. A soldier every inch, but a 
Christian. He was in some ways like our own brave 
Gordon, in other respects like Cromwell. 

He had a " way " with him, people said, and the 
following verses from an old newspaper will describe 
that way: — 


'■ We see him now — his old felt hat 

Cocked o'er his eyes askew; 

His shrewd dry smile, his speech so pat, 

So calm, so blunt, so true. 
( M 132 ) O 


The ' Blue Light Elder ' knows us well; 
Says he, ' That's Banks — he's fond o' shell, 
Loi'd save his soul ! We'll give him — ahem.' Well, 
That's Stonewall Jackson's way. 

" ' Silence ! Ground arms ! Kneel all ! Caps off! 
Old Blue Light's going to pray. 
Let ne'er a man, now, dare to scoff. 

Attention ! ' It's just his way. 
Appealing from his native sod 
In forma pauperis, to God, 

' Lay bare Thine arm, Lord, stretch forth Thy rod,' 

That's Stonewall's way. 

"Ah! maiden, wait and watch and yearn 
For news of Stonewall's band. 
Ah! widow, read with eyes that burn 

That ring upon thy hand ; 
Ah! wife, pray on, sew on, hope on. 
Thy life shall not be all forlorn. 
The foe had better ne'er been born 
That stands in Stonewall's way." 

Onward and eastward day after day marched Harry 
and his little cavalcade. Everywhere they met with 
civility and courtesy, even from the Federals, and 
very seldom indeed had they to camp out all night. 

But one adventure which they had is worth relating. 
Luckily some of old Uncle Neile's experiences prepared 
them for meeting it. 

They were in a very lonely part of the country and 
were passing through a deep, wooded ravine. 


Just near to the place where a roaming stream is 
spanned by a wooden bridge, and at a turn of the road, 
the old slave negro addressed Harry. 

" Now, Massa Henry, you keep you hand on you' 
revolver, sah. Jes' 'bout heah — " 

He never finished that sentence. 

Seven men in slouched hats sprang suddenly from 
under the trees. 

"Hands up!" was the shout, and rifles were levelled 
at Harry's and Osmond's heads. 

Rack — rack — rack — rack went the revolvers in 

But for Wolf, however, either Osmond or his cousin 
would have been a dead man. 

In the faithful dog the Road-agents had met a foe 
they had little reckoned on. 

He " downed " the leader, cutting him fearfully in 
the jaws, then sprang on the others. 

"Bress de Giver ob ebery good thing!" shouted the 
sturdy old nigger. 

Next moment he leapt from the cart. 

" You do de prayin', ole Mammy, I do de fightin' foh 
true," he cried. 

A blow from the butt-end of a rifle he had wrenched 
from the leader of the gang emphasized the last words, 
and another robber fell. 

Then on came Osmond and the others. 


Flight was almost the only thing now that these 
cowardly highwaymen could think of. They left 
behind one man dead and two wounded, while Wolf 
pursued the others, and returned at last with his chops 
dripping gore. 

No battle with highwaymen was probably ever more 
speedily decided. 

The dead man was dragged off the road and left, 
the wounds of the prisoners were seen to, and they 
were handed over, bound, to justice that very after- 

The joy of Mrs. Blood worth and her daughters on 
seeing husband and father once again is something I 
shall not attempt to paint. I should be certain to 
make a mess of it, and some scenes are far better left 
to the reader's imagination. 

But when the slaves gathered round " ole Massa " 
to shake his hand, the poor major could not keep the 
tears back. It was impossible. 

The slaves found relief to their feelings, however, 
by shouldering Mammy and Uncle, and carrying them 
right away down to the little hut among the bushes. 

And that evening a great 'possum hunt and feast 
were given in the old man's honour. Osmond and 
Harry, with his sisters, were there, you may be sure, 
and it was twelve o'clock, and the stars shining high 


and bright, before the young folks all got back to the 
cosy sitting-room, and long hours after that before 
the boys said good-night and retired. 

There was so much to speak of, so much to tell. 



Tj^AIN would I dwell for a time w^ith my young 
J- heroes in the peace that reigned at the old plan- 
tation. But events centre for a time around Richmond. 

Richmond, you will remember, with Charleston on 
the Atlantic and Vicksburg on the Mississippi, were 
the three pillars of the Southern States from the 
Federal point of view. It is no wonder, therefore, 
that fierce and terrible fighting took place to capture 
or to keep these cities. 

From all directions President Jeff Davis was hurry- 
ing up troops for the support of Richmond, while after 
the retreat of the Confederates from the Peninsula 
M'Clellan advanced towards Richmond. He encoun- 
tered General Johnstone at Fair Oaks or Seven Pines. 
The first day's fighting, that of May 30th, was all in 
Johnstone's favour. He whipped the Federals, and 
next day meant to annihilate M'Clellan. But General 


Sumner got to the front, and things were altered. At 
all events the Southerners withdrew, and poor John- 
stone was desperately wounded. 

He had, therefore, to give up command. And now 
the redoubtable General Robert E. Lee steps upon the 

Johnstone had made his mark, however, for in this 
battle of Fair Oaks the Federals are said to have 
lost no fewer than 6000 men and the Confederates 

Stuart's strange wild ride round the army of 
M'Clellan with 1500 cavaliers is a matter of history. 

These brave fellows positively swept like a tornado 
round the Federals. They never, we are told, quitted 
saddle for two days and more, namely, from the morn- 
ing of June 14th till noon of the 16th. In this ride 
they defeated a Federal regiment, burned 200 wagons, 
sank transports and captured horses, stores and am- 
munition, and nearly 200 prisoners. 
. Verily there was plenty of romance as well as cour- 
age on the Confederate side. 

M'Clellan, still advancing on Richmond, made a kind 
of semi-investment of the place on the north as well as 
on the east. 

Now, never dreaming that in the event of his defeat 
M'Clellan would retreat south on the James River, 
the Confederates who lay betwixt him and Richmond 


determined to strike him on the north, and thus cut 
off his retreat to the York River. 

Meanwhile where are Osmond and Harry? This is 
a question easily answered. Much though they would 
have liked to have tarried a little longer at the old 
plantation, impatience to be once more in action and 
to join their old regiment and comrades made it im- 
possible for them to stay. 

They hurried on, therefore, to the north and east. 
Old Mammy was in tears at their departure, and so 
were Harry's sisters. When would they meet again, 
and how would it fare with poor Will, by this time in 
full retreat with Beauregard from Corinth? 

But bah! such questions are unworthy of soldiers. 
War permits no sentiment to interfere with her awful 
course. Her march is ever onward, through fire, 
through blood, through tears. 

After innumerable adventures our heroes found 
themselves among Jackson's pickets. Strangely enough, 
the first ofiicer they met was one they knew well, for 
they had fought by his side on more than one blood- 
drenched field. 

It was about the 22nd of June, and Stonewall Jack- 
son was hurrying back from his glorious campaign in 
the Shenandoah to assist A. P. Hill. 

Meanwhile, the latter general made a terrible on- 
slaught on the portion of M'CIellan's army here 


stationed. It was a fearful fight from the first, and 
finally the Federals retreated or withdrew to Gaines 
Mill, farther to the east. Here, on June 27th, another 
terrible battle began. The struggle was the most 
ghastly of any yet fought 'twixt North and South. 

Osmond and Harry, each at the head of a company, 
fought almost side by side, though they hardly knew 

But so bravely did the Federals defend themselves, 
that the Confederates began at las^ to yield. 

I have to record here — and it is with pleasure I do 
so — an exploit of my hero Osmond. He was rushing 
forward with his company, at the head of which 
already three officers had been slain. Honest Wolf 
was by his side, and this made him all the more con- 
spicuous. The dog was covered with blood from head 
to tail, showing how well a British mastiff can do his 
duty on the field of fight. 

Perhaps Osmond had never looked better than he 
did at that moment, with his gore -stained sword 
pointing onwards, and his head half-turned to where 
his fellows were rushing forward for a bayonet 

But on top of a small hill he encountered a portion 
of the Confederate army that had lost hea^rt, and were 
being pursued to the ridge by the Feds. 
• "Back, men, back!" cried Osmond, still waving his 


sword. He felt the fire of Stonewall Jackson in his 
veins just then. It was his gestures more than any- 
thing else that stemmed the tide of flight. 

The Confeds turned, and though scores and scores 
fell dead and wounded on that ridge, every attack of 
the enemy was bravely repelled, and many were hurled 
down the bluflf with terrible slaughter. 

But Osmond's ranks are getting sadly thinned. Can 
he hold out? But little longer, I fear. He himself is 
faint and tired and hoarse. Shall he retire? Shall 
he retreat? And the same brave words that once 
were uttered by a far greater man than he came to 
his mind as a reply to the question, " What tuould 
they say in England if we are beaten?" Now, back- 
wards down the hill again must be hurled the pride of 
the Noxth. 

Osmond seems to find voice once more. 

"On, men, on! Down with them ! Hurrah!" 

Wolf utters a sound that is half a bark and half a 
yell, and dashes at a man in front who had levelled 
his revolver straight at our hero's head. 

The " gun ", as the Americans call a pistol, dropped 
from his hands as he fell to the ground in a death 
grapple with the now half-mad dog. 

But hark ! that cheer away to the left. It is repeated 
again and again, followed by the rattle of rifle-firing 
and the deeper bass of artillery. 


"It is Jackson! Stonewall Jackson. Hurrah! 

I confess, reader, I have often envied even as I 
joined in the tliunders of applause that welcomed the 
appearance of some great actor upon the stage. But 
tenfold more do I envy the honour and glory accorded 
to the hero that wild cheers herald, as he is seen riding, 
sword in hand, to a blood-stained battle-field. 

And that very name, and he who bore it, was 
worth ten thousand men. It rallied the battle- 
weary braves, it stirred the blood in the faintest 
heart, and everyone felt and knew that victory was 
now assured. 

The hero had come! 

" Stonewall Jackson ! Stonewall for ever! Hurrah!" 

The victor of Shenandoah has not even to speak. 
He but smiles grimly, and with gleaming sword points 
to the Federals' right. 

Now the fighting is indeed fearful. But backward, 
and still backward are borne the serried ranks of the 
Federals. They stumble, they stagger, they fight, and 
in fighting fly. And soon it is all confusion, all a mad 
rush to the rear, and victory belongs to the Southern 

Victory, yet not pursuit. 

For a brigade of brave Irishmen prevented that, as 
they stood 'twixt the victors and the fleeing foe, 


staunch, undaunted, true, else had Gaines Mill been 
M'Clellan's Sadowa. 

There is a river, reader, near where this battle was 
fought called the Chickahominy. M'Clellan hastily 
took his badly-beaten army across. But he had to 
fight his pursuers again on the 28th. 

Surely Osmond was having his fill of fighting now, 
and in this fresh battle he proved himself no less a 
hero than in the last. With his dog near him always, 
as if he were a guardian spirit, he was conspicuous 
wherever he went. Many a rifle was aimed at him 
and his companion, but they seemed to bear charmed 

Just once on this day of fearful slaughter, and 
in the midst of a field, damp with recent rain, soaked 
with the blood of the slain that lay about in every 
conceivable posture amidst broken arms and accoutre- 
ments, Osmond and Harry met. 

Both were bespattered with blood and mud from 
head to heel. Both looked hungry, gaunt, and gray. 
There was barely time to shake hands and exchange 
friendly courtesies. 

" I would not have known you," said Harry, " but 
for the dog. Dear old Wolf! He, too, has done his 

"God help us, Harry; we must all do that. But 
how pleased I am to see you safe!" 


" Meet me to-night if you can." 

" If alive — yes. Good-bye." 

" Harry!" cried Osmond. His cousin was already 
moving- off. 

" Yes, Os, old man." 

" Ever heard of the Kilkenny cats?" 

" This does indeed resemble it," said Harry. 

Then, with a sudden impulse which under the cir- 
cumstances was amusing, he added: 

"There was nothing left but a bit of fluff, Os. 
Never mind, it shall be our bit of fluft'. Hurrah!" 

There was no meeting that night between Harry 
and Osmond. I don't know when Harry slept, but 
after finding a morsel of food for himself and Wolf, 
Os lay down on the damp field under a bush, through 
which the wind sighed dismally, and the faithful dog 
served him for a pillow. 

Surely he had not slept an hour. But it was day- 
light, and the bugle was soundino;. 

Now came the tug of war. It began with a fearful 
artillery battle, and ended on the part of General A. P. 
Hill — who on this occasion commanded the Confeder- 
ates — with a wild bayonet charge. But at eventide 
M'Clellan, though he could not score a victory, had 
succeeded in holding together the shattered remains of 
his army. 

And he now tried to make good his retreat to Mai- 


vern Hill, that overlooked the James River, on which 
he hoped, if he could but keep the enemy at bay, to 
re- embark his army, or what was left of it. 

" 111 fared it then with Eoderick Dhu 
That on the ground his targe he threw." 

I don't exactly know why these lines from Scott's 
poem, descriptive of the fight 'twixt Fitzjames and 
the Highland chief, should come to my mind at this 
moment, unless it be that pride seems to have been at 
the bottom of M'Clellan's seven days' disasters before 
Richmond, just as contempt for his foe had instigated 
the chieftain to throw away his targe. M'Clellan had 
meant to sweep all before him in two-handed, High- 
land claymore fashion. 

Behold him now fleeing in despair to the one advan- 
tageous point on which hope still burned beacon-like. 
For there, on the river beneath him, were his own 
gun-boats, and they could aid in supporting him. 

The James River flows directly south from Rich- 
mond — then goes winding in and out through woods 
and swamps eastwards. At Malvern Hill it forms 
quite an elbow. It had been flowing right north 
before this, but the hill said, "No, you don't"; so the 
stream broadened out, and back it goes again directly 
south; then— much wider now at City Point — it goes 
sweeping eastwards away past Harrison's Landing. 


The gun-boats, remember, were stationed a little to 
the west of Malvern Hill, on tlie river's elbow, and as 
the Confederates come from the west as well as from 
the north-north-west, these tubs of war could, if they 
found the range, do considerable execution in their 

Let me tell you what Malvern Hill was like. I 
must quote from a letter from Tom to his Cousin 
Harry. How it reached him I never knew. It is 
dated from Harrison's Landingf, and oives a full 
account, from a Federal's point of view, of the battles 
I have all too briefly described. Then it goes on to 
describe the march — the Confederates called it a race 
— for Malvern Hill, where the terrible light raged on 
July 1st. 

"Harrison's Landing. 

" This hill, my dear old misguided Harry, lies, as 
your troops know to their sorrow, on the northern 
bend of James River. But I was there long before 
your fellows. We were all there on the grand stand, 
as it were, before you had a chance of showing front. 
We waited for you — most of us smoking. I heard 
many of our men thanking heaven there was a bit 
of tobacco left to chew and smoke, for you know you 
kept spoiling our dinner every day, and only sheer 
fatigue could have enabled us to get any sleep at all. 

" But, oh ! that awful march to Malvern Hill — all 


through the woods and swamps, by day, by night, 
our poor fellows tottering as they walked, wan and 
hungry, sick and sad, burned up by the summer's sun 
or drenched by dews at night! Many a weary soldier 
fell out and laid him down to die. We had to leave 
them on moor or marsh and still press on. 

" On and on for Malvern Hill. For here we should 
make our last stand! 

" Then down to Harrison's Landing. Could we but 
reach the bend in the river our transports would save 
us. Ah! right well we knew you wanted to capture 
and to crush us. As weary and tired you must have 
been as we ourselves. But then, dear Harry, you 
were the victors. You had the thoughts of former 
triumphs to stimulate you. We felt as if death itself 
would be a blessing. Every day we had fought a 
battle — every night, instead of rest, we had to push on 
only to fight again when night was fled and the sun 
that we almost hated re-summoned us to arms. 

" And we knew, too, that all your bravest generals 
had marshalled their forces to cut off our retreat to 
Harrison's Landing. Your terrible Stonewall Jackson, 
your Ewell, Lee, and Hill — and last, though not least, 
your bold Magruder. 

" On and on we push and scramble, the men as 
brave as men can be, the officers doing all they can to 
encourage them. 


" While still miles from our grand stand that was to 
be, I remember passing a house, to the door of which 
ran several half-dressed pretty children to cheer us. 
They knew not nor cared whether we were Feds or 
Confeds. A woman came to take them in, but she too 
must wave her hand. A pretty picture this of peace 
in the midst of the demons of war. 

"At last, at last! We are on Malvern Hill. To 
rest? Ah, no! we must fortify it. 

" The top of the mount was a broad and long plateau, 
about two miles by one were its dimensions. The 
sides next the river no soldier could climb for its steep- 
ness. But the front towards Richmond was an inclined 
plane, lawn-like and green; and behind these green 
fields were pine - trees. Up this, from fields and 
bush below, your troops would have to come, if come 
they dared, or could, for we soon had it covered with 
our guns that terraced the hill-sides and bristled on 
its top. We could fire 300 cannon at you, and did so 
when the terrible battle began. 

" Not far down beneath, on the banks of a creek, 
screened by bushes from the fields you would have 
to cross, we had massed four brigades of our brave 

" We had worked all nioht lono^. How olad I was 
in the gray dawn to be able to get a few hours' rest! 
But I leapt to my feet at last. There was a kind of 


weight at my heart that for a minute or two I could 
not banish. I think it was the sight of brave but war- 
worn M'Clellan riding hither and thither on horseback 
along the plateau that helped to cheer me. 

" All the forenoon we could see your regiments de- 
ploying, marching, or standing waiting in wood and 
field. Oh! that awful waiting! how your true soldier 
hates it. A little desultory firing had already taken 
place to the left — our left — but this died away, and it 
was evident that your generals were getting to learn 
the work before them would indeed be awful. 

"We now see a long line of your skirmishers advance 
from among the pines, and commence to fire across 
the fields towards the creek beneath the hill. Fain 
would they learn what we had hidden for them in this 
direction ; they run, they creep, and wriggle like centi- 
pedes, till a volley from behind the bushes sent them 
back to the shelter of the woods. 

"All they can report is that they have left several 
dead and wounded in that field, and that they could 
count at least two hundred great guns, and see our 
men in line waiting to do battle in earnest. 

"And, at about one hour past noon, they felt the 
whole force of those guns, for it was then that your 
daring men — was it Magruder who led them?^made 
a dash from the woods in a double line of battle. But 
they had to cross that awful open space before they 

( M 132 ) ? p 


could reach and assault even our first line of de- 

"For just a moment there was a death-like stillness. 
We could see your flags flying, and your accoutrements 
glittering in the glorious sunshine of this summer 
day. Then all was thunder, smoke, and Are around 
and beneath us. The shells tore through the air; 
the very hill shook and quivered from end to end to 
the explosive roar of our cannon. Shot and shell 
crashed through your lines of battle, but the gaps 
were speedily closed up and on and on you came, 
leaving the shot-torn field behind you strewn thickly 
with your motionless dead, and your writhing, tortured 

" When your lines were but a musket-shot distance 
from the bush-hidden creek, where lay our brave 
brigades, but not before, a line of fire belched forth 
and whole regiments seemed swept away. We could 
see only hundreds of the grays staggering back to the 
pine wood from which thousands had just emerged. 

"Again and again throughout the afternoon were 
just such charges made. Again and again, Harry, we 
saw you thrust back, nay, almost annihilated, and my 
heart sank with dread as I thought that you, dear 
cousin, or our English cousin Osmond, might be among 
the slain, or what would be far worse, among those 
writhing piles of wounded; for it was over them your 


fellows had to march in these charges, just over the 
dead to almost certain death. The gun-boats all this 
while were doing what they could to assist the work 
of red-handed destruction. 

" All the afternoon this desperate struggle went on, 
but it was at six o'clock that you seemed to try to do 
your best or your worst. 

" Oh, then, who shall describe the furious pande- 
monium? But it was all in vain. You had fought 
like furies, almost like tiends, and darkness closed the 
dreadful scene. 

" And the darkness, dear Harry, saw us victorious, 
yet in full retreat. 

"And what a night that was! How wildly the 
wind raved and how mercilessly fell the rain ! 

" There was no time for pity, Harry, nor for senti- 
ment, and yet I could not help sorrowfully thinking 
of the thousands of poor wounded wretches that all 
night long, in anguish and agony, were left on the 
fields and in the dismal woods, no help nigh, none to 
ease an aching head till their very movements, in 
many cases, caused arteries to gush out afresh, and 
the sleep of death to steal over them. 

" Our retreat to Harrison's Landing, though the 
distance was but eight miles, was one long toilsome 
suffering dream to me, and I am sure to most of us. 
In the darkness of midnight, and all against the pelting 


of this pitiless storm, our war-worn soldiers tottered 
or groped their way onwards, 

"Victors we called ourselves! How bitter the title! 
Here around me was the confusion of a routed and 
beaten mob. And yet there were those among us who 
cursed what they called the cowardice and folly of 
M'Clellan for not, after all, staying to attack you next 
day, conquering you as these men felt they could, and 
then sweeping on to Richmond. 

"Good-bye, good-bye! At present we are being 
bundled and pitchforked on board the transports. 



POPE, the Federal general in Missouri, was placed 
in command of a new "Army of Virginia" and 
the Northerners expected he would do " big licks ", as 
they termed it. He himself said that he would ride 
to Richmond easily, and that till he had secured that 
city, his head-quarters should be in the saddle. 

Jackson — old Blue Light — warmed him at Cedar 
Mountain, anyhow, and caused him to fall back across 
the Rappahannock. He hoped to be joined on the 


other side of the river by M'Clellan, of Malvern Hill, 
who had landed once more with his army. 

But he had not counted on the tactics of Stone- 
wall Jackson and of Longstreet and Lee. 

Stonewall, by a forced march, out-manoeuvred him, 
and occupied Manassas. Pope, in despair, turned 
at bay, and thus another battle was fought at Bull 
Run, which, despite a telegram that Pope sent to 
Washington claiming victory, ended in his total rout 
and discomfiture. 

Things were certainly looking brighter now for the- 
Southerners' cause, and so they determined to carry 
the war to the very gates of Washington itself. 

Lee advanced north, therefore, and cut the railway 
'twixt Washington and Harper's Ferry, where a 
Federal army still lay. He then crossed the Potomac. 

Stonewall Jackson and General A. P. Hill were 
next sent to do battle on Maryland Heights and 
attack Harper's Ferry. 

To the consternation of the whole of the North, 
they were completely successful, for, after a terrific 
bombardment, and against the wishes of the garrison, 
the commander surrendered. Owing to this surrender 
of Brigadier-general White, Stonewall Jackson cap- 
tured 11,000 prisoners, 73 pieces of artillery, and 
unlimited ammunition and stores. 


By the end of September it may be said that the 
Federals were everywhere losing. 

But although M'Clellan had to return unsuc- 
cessful from his ill-starred peninsular expedition and 
campaign, President Lincoln neither degraded nor 
deposed him. He knew the man's worth, and knew, 
too, he was the only general he could really rely on to 
defend Washinsfton. 

He, therefore, made a call for more recruits, deter- 
mined that he would defend the Stars and Stripes to 
the last. No less than 300,000 men were asked for. It 
is true that large bounties were offered to volunteers, 
but, putting this on one side, I am of opinion that 
patriotism had as much to do with the successful 
raising of this fresh army as filthy lucre. 

M'Clellan was put at the head of it, and it soon 
began to swell to very large dimensions indeed, for 
soon we find the general marching from the capital 
with an army that, all told, could not have been much 
under 100,000. He was going to fight General Lee, 
and this good old soldier had an army of barely 
70,000 to oppose M'Clellan. 

Then, on September 14th, ensued the battle of 
South Mountain, in which Fighting Joe Hooker suc- 
ceeded in turning the Confederate left and gaining 
a victory. The Southerners were commanded by 
General D. H. Hill, and were in all not more than 


10,000. He was not only out-flanked, but crushed by- 
weight of numbers, so had to retreat upon the main 
body under Lee. The fight was a fierce one while 
it lasted. All fights were fierce and terrible now, 
and nothing like the first battle of Bull Run. 

General Garland, a Confederate, and General Reno, 
a Federal, had been boys together at school. Both 
fell in this battle, each fighting desperately for his 
own side. 

So sad a thing is civil war! 

Next comes the fight at Antietam Creek. This 
was one of the big battles of the war. Who would 
win it? Would the Confederate successes continue, 
or would M'Clellan have his revenge and hurl Lee and 
his forces "off the face of the almighty universe", as 
some of his generals averred they would? 

Now, a good map will give you this Antietam 
Creek or stream, on the west or west-south-west of 
which Lee's great army was drawn up to await the 
attack of M'Clellan. He had the river Potomac in his 
rear, so that in this way his position was a risky one. 

There are critics who would say that he ought to 
have crossed back over the Potomac, made a sham 
retreat, as it were, and then turned on M'Clellan with 
the old dash and fire of the Southern soldiers. 

But Lee's position seemed well chosen, and as he 
did not decide to retire, he was right not to advance. 


The creek in front was not very winding, and it was 
crossed by three bridges, one in the centre, one well to 
the left, and another to the right. Stonewall Jackson 
had come from Harper's Ferry, and having crossed the 
Potomac at William's Port, took up his position on the 
high ground to Lee's left. 

The cannon, too, were well posted, and every- 
thing looked bright for the battle of next day (Sep- 
tember 17th) as far as the Confederates were con- 

Fighting Joe Hooker had crossed the north bridge 
on the 16th, and had a little skirmish with the Con- 
federate left before sunset. 

"That's nothing," said Fighting Joe to one of his 
officers after dark — they were encamped that night 
on the open field — "nothing, sir, nothing; only a kind 
of preliminary sparring to test the enemy's guards. 
But to-morrow, gentlemen, we'll fight the battle that 
sliall decide the fate of this great Republic." 

I may state here that the valour and dash of young 
Osmond had come under the personal notice of Stone- 
wall Jackson in more fights than one. 

He had sent for him one evening, and the order 
was that he was to bring Wolf with him. 

The great general was in his tent, and his welcome 
to Osmond was so cordial that the young fellow's 


face crimsoned with delight. Wolf went shyly up to 
Stonewall and licked his hand, receiving a loving pat 
on the head for his reward. 

Then Stonewall Jackson shook hands with our 

" This," said the general, smiling, " is a true specimen 
of the British mastiff, isn't he?" 

"Yes, indeed," said Os brightly. 

"And you are a true specimen of the British man! 
Whatever possessed you to come out to us?" 

Then Osmond found voice and said simply: 

" I daresay, sir, it was first and foremost because I 
have cousins in the army of the South; secondly 
because I am somewhat of a romantic turn of mind; 
and thirdly, because your cause is so just and true." 

" Spoken like a man. Well, I .won't detain you. 
I hope to see you again and often, and your noble 
dog too, and may God protect and guard you both. 
Lieutenant- colonel Lloyd ! " 

" I am captain. General, not lieutenant-colonel." 

Stonewall laughed. 

"Hurry off," he said, "hurry off. You are pro- 
moted, vice Plunkett, killed this day. Fear the Lord, 
Colonel. Fear the Lord; fight and pray." 

But his Cousin Harry was now a major, and to 
Osmond's inexpressible delight both would be attached 
to the same regiment, and thus fight side by side. 


The night before the great battle of Antietam was 
exceedingly beautiful, and Harry and Osmond sat 
up longer than perhaps they ought to have done, con- 
sidering the dangers and fatigues they would have to 
come through next day. 

When they turned in at last, hardly had they 
been two hours asleep when the bugle call, resound- 
ing all over the heights and wooded hollows, awoke 

The battle it seemed was already begun, and hardly 
had our heroes time to eat a humble ration, washed 
down with water, than it was time to fall in. 

For yonder wa^ Fighting Joe advancing in force 
against Stonewall Jackson. 

Two great heroes had met, and the very earth shook 
to the rattle and roar of their battalions. 

"That fellow Hooker," Stonewall was heard to re- 
mark, "is a madman. The Lord will deliver him into 
our hands." 

Fighting Joe, however, had considerable method in 
his madness; for, finally, even the redoubtable Con- 
federate hero had to give way before him and seek 
the shelter of a wood. On to this pressed Joe, his 
men wildly cheering as they rushed — to almost cer- 
tain death. For those woods suddenly vomited forth 
fire and a very hail of destruction. Then once more 
Jackson charged, and but for the arrival of Federal 


General Sumner, Fighting Joe and his plucky fellows 
would have been annihilated. 

But Fighting Joe on his white horse became a mark 
for showers of Confederate bullets, one of which at last 
pierced his foot, and he had to retire, all his hopes of 
capturing this wing of the Confederate army, or driv- 
ing it into the Potomac, having failed. 

This was the forenoon's fight on the Confederate 
left, but after this the battle raged wilder and wilder. 
The hosts on hosts of straggling men extended south- 
wards and east for miles. 

When Burnside crossed the southern bridge on his 
army's left he was opposed by Hill and his gigantic 
forces, and against fearful odds had to struggle on and 
up a hill or eminence. He gained this. He could not 
hold it, however, Backward borne now towards the 
Creek, Burnside feared annihilation, and sent to beg 
reinforcements from M'Clellan. M'Clellan could not 
spare a man. The word brought back to Burnside 
was that he should hold the bridge. 

"The bridge! the bridge! If that is lost defeat is 
ours. I pray you, hold the bridge." 

And brave Burnside resolved to do so to the last 
man, even should that man be himself, his own good 
sword in hand. But oh, the butchery! the slaughter! 
It is saddening to think or write of it. 

Then fell night, and both armies sought repose. 


Wlio would begin the morning's attack? Neither 
army did. Neither army dared. 

So Lee crossed quietly over the Potomac. 

Poor Wolf had been wounded in the shoulder, his 
master slightly in the wrist. Both wounds were ugly- 
looking gashes, but when the surgeon dressed Osmond's 
the latter declared that he would not go on the sick 
list. So the left arm was put in a sling. Then the 
doctor dressed Wolf's wound. 

Wolf submitted patiently, frequently licking the 
surgeon's hand. 

" It's nothing," he seemed to say, speaking with his 
eyes. "Yes, stitch it up, I won't bite; but if I could 
only reach it with my tongue I'd soon have your 
stitches out." 

Meanwhile how fared it in the army in which 
Harry's brother Will was serving after their repulse 
from Corinth? 

Certainly not over well. 

The Confederates determined, in an evil moment it 
would seem, to retake Corinth. Their General Price 
had, after being once defeated by the Federal General 
Rosecrans with the loss of nearly 200 men, managed 
to unite with Van Don and with Lovell, and brought 
their forces — a great army of well-nigh 50,000 men — 
to bear upon Corinth on the 4th of October. 


That was a sad struggle and a terrible day of 
slaughter and butchery for the Confederates; Rose- 
crans disposed his guns right well in his trenches, and 
as the Southerners came on like an avalanche they 
were mown down in hundreds, nay, thousands, for 
their numbers — killed and wounded — must have ex- 
ceeded 5000. Never before perhaps had such piles and 
heaps of slain been seen in front of an intrenched 

When the Confederates at last drew off in despair, 
when the cannon's roar no longer mingled with the 
yell of the charging foe, and the smoke of battle lifted 
up and drifted away to leeward, it revealed a scene so 
sickening and so dreadful that even brave men among 
the Federals viewing it burst into tears. 

At the battle of Perrysville, fought by General 
Bragg shortly after this — October 8th — the Con- 
federates once more suffered severe losses, though they 
may have been said to gain a victory. 

The poor Southerners were certainly to be pitied. 
Just think of it, reader — Bragg's soldiers fought as 
few men ever fought before, but they were hungry, 
ragged, and tired, hardly shoes to cover their feet, 
hardly a hat to keep the sun or weather from their 
heads, hardly clothes to cover their nakedness. 

" Emerging," says a writer, " from the shelter to 


which they had retired after their first repulse from 
this portion of the line, they advanced in heavy masses 
towards our position. Their appearance as regiment 
after regiment and mass after mass came forth from 
beneath the woods and advanced down the slope of 
the hills was imposing in the extreme. Distance con- 
cealed the rags composing their uniform; the bright 
sunbeams glancing from their bayonets flashed like 
lightning over the field, and the blue flag with a 
single star waved all along their lines. At their head 
advanced a general mounted on a white horse and sur- 
rounded by a numerous staff", all having horses of the 
same colour." 

Ah! reader, even as I sit here in my study writing, 
I think I can see that grand though ragged array. 
Yes, and I hear too their wild cries as they come 
on at the double, and wonder not that before such 
a charge the Federals were hurled back like chaff' 
before the wind. 

But Bragg was unable to sustain a orand combined 
charge, and so fell wearily back and away. 

They left one poor fellow behind them of whom I 
must speak in my next chapter. 




JUST as the hosts of the Confederates were emerg- 
ing from the woods for their second grand charge, 
and rifle bullets began to zip-zip and sing around them, 
Captain William Bloodworth, who was rushing on, 
sword in hand, at the head of his company, was struck, 
threw up both arms, and fell heavily on his face. 

He was dead, his fellows thought, — if indeed there 
was time for thought. So they dashed on past him, 
over him, some, I fear, even trampling upon him un- 

Will was not dead, though. 

In a few moments he sat up, sick and faint and 
thirsty. He pulled aside his ragged coat and shirt, and 
tried to staunch the flow of blood from his chest. In 
this he was only partially successful, a fit of coughing 
came on now, and the blood poured from his mouth. 
He managed to reach his little canteen. There was 
water in it. Then he crawled foot by foot, inch by inch, 
back towards the wood. He sought shelter from the 
blazing rays of the sun, now pouring down remorse- 
lessly on his hatless head. What a distance away that 
wood appeared to be, although he had bounded there- 


from but a few minutes before, full of life and 

Will he never, never be able to reach it? He feels, 
or fears, he will die. Yet life never seemed more 
desirable than it does at this moment. He, so young, 
so lately full of health and vigour. So — 

What was that sound? 

" Water, water, water!" 

A faint and weary cry; for here close to the wood 
lies a wounded comrade. Will crawls towards him. 

" I have a mouthful," he says, " I will share it with 
you, comrade." 

"Is it you — sir — you, captain? You are — wounded 
too. We have fallen — we have — " 

" Drink, poor fellow, drink." 

He holds the canteen to the dying soldier's lips. 

" God bless you — we'll meet — soon, we'll — " 

He said no more. The head fell back, and Will 
closed his eyes with blood-dripping lingers. 

Then he painfully crawled away once more on hands 
and knees. In under a darksome juniper bush he 
crept. It was soft beneath this — soft and cool. He 
drank the rest of the water — there was but a spoon- 
ful — then the canteen slipped from his hand, and the 
deep sleep of debility stole over his senses. 

When he awoke again it was niglit. 

Night, and the stars all shining. But silent now is 


the cannon's roar; silent the shouts of his brave com- 
panions; silent all; silent, dark, and cold. An owl 
hoots mournfully in the wood behind, the wind sighs 
sadly through the pines, and now and then faintly 
borne along upon the breeze comes a sentry's call: 

"All's well!" 

Will tries to rise. It is impossible. He is glued to 
the ground with his own very life's blood. 

Oh, merciful sleep, that steals over him again, and 
brings with it dreams of his mother, his father, and 
sisters in their far-off old plantation home! 

But once more he wakes. 

There are voices near him now, and a lamp is flick- 
ering from bush to bush like a fire-fly. Presently he 
sees forms around him, but their coats are blue. He 
tries to speak, but cannot. It is an ambulance man 
that is bending over him now with kindly, pitying gaze. 

" Here is another poor fellow," he says. " Lift him 
gently, gently, comrades; I guess it is all up with him." 

Again the wounded hero slumbers, and next moment 
— so it seems to poor Will — he opens his eyes in a tent. 
A Federal surgeon is holding water and wine to his 
lips. He sips a little and now finds voice. 

"Am I — am I dying?" he whispers. 

The doctor turns away to hide a tear. Yes, even an 
army-surgeon's heart may be as tender as a loving 

(M132) Q 


" You are a brave man," lie says. " Can you bear it?" 

" Yes, yes." 

" You are going, then, to a land where there will be 
no war, no horrors, no bloodshed; where all will be 
peace and joy and love." 

The surgeon took from his pocket a little well-worn, 
war-worn Bible, and while the lamp above swayed to 
and fro with the gusty night wind, and the canvas 
flapped dolefully ever and anon, this kindly medico 
read passages of comfort from that sacred volume. 

The words, however, that seemed to bring the 
greatest comfort to dying Will were those, "Behold, 
the tabernacle of God is with men, and He will dwell 
with them, and they shall be His people, and God 
him^self shall be with them, and be their God. And 
God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and 
there shall be no Tnore death, neither sorrow, nor 
crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the 
former things are passed away." 

Alas! when the surgeon looked at the cot again, his 
patient himself had passed away. But there was a 
peaceful smile upon his face, that death itself had not 

The kindly Federal doctor found a half-written 
letter addressed to Harry and Osmond in poor Will's 
pocket and took possession of it, also a fully addressed 
letter to his mother at the old plantation. 


(Long, long months after this Dr., for that was 
his name, placed both epistles in the heart-broken and 
weeping mother's hands.) 

As Will had closed the dead soldier's eyes on the 
field of battle near the wood, so did Dr. Rae now close 

"Poor fellow!" he said to himself. "So young, so 







THE year 1862 wore slowly to a close without vic- 
tory leaning very decidedly towards either North 
or South. At the same time, the fortunes of the Federals, 
it must be admitted, had fallen to rather a low ebb. 

They had hearts like lions, however. They had 
staying powers, they had munitions of war, money, 
food, and clothing. The South was already impover- 
ished. How then would it all end? 

Colonel Osmond Lloyd's sword, it seems, had no 
chance of rusting in its scabbard. General Lee, 
as I have already said, drew quietly off across the 
Potomac, but M'Clellan thought himself too weak to 
follow up his victory. Some Pennsylvanian regiments, 
however, did what they could to make it warm for 
Stonewall Jackson, following him up and irritating 
him beyond control. 


Now Stonewall wasn't the man to stand being 
followed or dodged. 

" Colonel Lloyd," he said to Osmond one morning, 
" let us put back and give these fellows fits." 

"I'm ready," said Osmond eagerly, "and all my 
boys too." 

So turn they did. It was at Boteler's Mills, and 
was indeed a bloody tussle while it lasted. A hand- 
to-hand fight. But badly indeed did it end for the 
brave Pennsylvanians. They fought to the last, and 
their regiments were almost completely annihilated. 

Stuart, who rode round the whole of M'Clellan's 
army before, must have been a most daring fellow. 
He made a raid one night right into the centre of 
Pope's camp. So plucky a thing had seldom been done 
before. What he meditated was to abduct the General, 
to make him prisoner in his bed, and to carry him 
back, in his shirt, to the Confederate camp. 

" I'll have him, boys, right enough," he cried, as he 
rode ofi". 

But Pope succeeded in escaping, and brave Stuart 
and his companions were disappointed. However, this 
cool, courageous Scot determined to give "old Mac", as 
he called M'Clellan, another turn. 

" I'll ride round him again," he said, "just to astonish 
his weak nerves a little bit more." 

So he once more chose 1,500 brave cavaliers and a 
small battery and crossed the Potomac into Maryland 
where Stonewall Jackson had crossed it in cominsf to 


Antietam Creek, well to the west of Harper's Ferry, 
It was a daring exploit, for Stuart crossed Penn- 
sylvania past the right of Mac's army, then east to 
Gettysburg and away to the rear of it, and back to 
his own camp. He had ridden 120 miles without an 
accident, broken up the Federal communications, and 
captured as many horses and stores, &c., as would 
suffice to mount and provision a regiment of foot or 

It would seem that, on the whole, the Federals had 
not much faith in any of their generals; for we find 
now that in the Western Army, Rosecrans, who hurled 
back the Confederates from Corinth, superseded Buell 
in command, and that M'Clellan, on November 5th, was 
superseded by Burnside, the man who so bravely held 
the bridge at Antietam Creek. 

Burnside determined to prove the truth of the old 
adage which tells us that new brooms sweep clean. 
He reorganized his army as soon as possible, and 
dividing it into three, gave commands to Generals 
Sumner, Franklin, and Fighting Joe Hooker. Its 
base was well down the Potomac at Aquia Creek. 

If you look on the map, reader, you cannot fail to 
see Fredericksburg, on the south of Rappahannock and 
away to the north of Richmond. 

Now Burnside was a courageous and a fiery Federal. 
But in giving battle to Lee, who, with 80,000 men 
under Longstreet and Stonewall, was posted on the 


heights behind Fredericksburg, he had reckoned with- 
out his host. 

After bombarding the pretty town, however, and 
almost destroying it, the Federals got over the river, 
and on the 18th of December attacked the heights. 

It was a beautiful day for a fight, sunshiny and 
warm; but woe is me for Burnside's hosts! Every 
assault was repelled, and the carnage was fearful. Had 
Burnside been able to thrash Lee, he meant to march 
right away into Richmond. 

He didn't. His repulse was complete, and his losses, 
dreadful to say, must have been over 12,000. 

I cannot help here quoting the words of an English 
newspaper correspondent who was himself an eye- 
witness of this monster battle. It is concerning the 
splendid courage of General Meagher's Irish brigade 
he is speaking, when he says: — 

"Never, either at Fontenoy, Albuera, or Waterloo, 
was more undoubted courage displayed by those sons 
of Erin, than during those six frantic dashes they 
made against the almost impregnable position of their 
foe. There are stories that General Meagher harangued 
his troops in impassioned language on the morning of 
the battle, and plied them extensively with whisky 
found in the cellars of Fredericksburg.^ But after 
witnessing the gallantry and devotion exhibited by 
his troops and viewing the hillside for acres strewn 
with their corpses, the spectator can remember nothing 

^ I refuse to believe this. Irishmen need no Dutch courage. — Author. 


but their desperate courage, and regret that it was 
not exhibited in another cause. That any mortal man 
could have carried the position before which they were 
wantonly sacrificed, seems to me idle for a moment to 
believe. But the bodies which lie in dense masses 
within forty yards of the muzzles of the Confederate 
guns are the best evidence what manner of men they 
were, who pressed on to death with the dauntlessness 
of a race which has gained glory on a thousand battle- 
fields, and never more richly deserved it than at the 
foot of Mary's heights on the 13th of December, 

The most important city and bulwark on the Missis- 
sippi — please note this, reader, and take a glance at 
your map — was Vicksburg. Because if it could be 
captured by the Federals under Farragut, with his 
fleet that had come up the river, and Sherman, with 
his army, railway communication would be severed 
between, it and Richmond — the western from the 
eastern portions of the Southern Confederacy. 

Vicksburg lies between the Big Black River and 
the Yazoo, two tributaries to the great Mississippi, and 
it was up the Yazoo that Sherman steamed with his 
forces with which he had dropped down stream from 
Memphis. He landed his huge army in the rear of 
the city of a hundred hills, and laid siege to it about 
the latter end of December. 

Here the land is very marshy. Sherman made four 


determined attacks on the Confederate strongholds, 
but all ended only in slaughter and defeat. 

Two hundred miles down the great river below 
Yicksburg lies the important stronghold of Port Hud- 
son. By means of this the Confederates were in a 
measure not so much affected by the blockade of their 
ports, because, by way of Port Hudson, they could keep 
open their commercial relations with the outer world 
through Mexico. 

General Butler had been superseded down south by 
Banks, and the latter, with thousands of negroes in 
his army, made a tremendous dash at Port Hudson. 
It failed, however. They were beaten, especially the 
blacks, against whom the Southerners were terribly 
incensed. They closed with them, and while it is 
said the emancipated slaves fought literally with 
tooth and nail, the Confederates used their bowie- 
knives, and covered the ground with their writhing 
and dusky forms. 

About the first of the new year, 1863, Rosecrans and 
Bragg had a terrible fight at Murfreesboro', but the 
Federal proved himself the more skilful soldier, and 
Bragg had to retire. Murfreesboro' lies on the Stone 
E-iver, and the railway between Nashville and Chat- 
tanooga runs through it. 

As if fortune wished in a measure to make up to 
the Southerners for their great losses in this fight, 
Magruder, down in the South of Texas now (though 


mind it is the same Magruder who more than deci- 
mated his division in those splendid but foolhardy- 
dashes against Malvern Hill held by M'Clellan's forces) 
attacked Galveston. This was a battle both by land 
and sea, but the place fell, January 2nd, and the port 
was then declared open to commerce from every part 
of the world. 

On April 7th another terrible attack was made by 
the Federal fleet against Charleston. It was a failure. 
So this may well be scored a victory for the South. 

Now nothing sickens a young man, with the active 
and romantic disposition which our hero Colonel 
Osmond Lloyd possessed, more than inactivity. Let 
Osmond be in a fight every day, waving that slashing 
old sword of his, and I don't think he would devote 
much time to meditation as to the rights or wrongs of 
the cause for which he was fighting. And, furthermore, 
I am quite certain that so long as he could be at his 
master's side, Wolf — faithful and true — would have 
asked no questions. 

But here, near to Fredericksburg, had Lee's army 
been lying now for three long months, without doing 
anything, and with the Federals just over the water. 

Latterly, you must know, the Northerners had got 
tired even of Burnside. M'Clellan had assured the 
Cabinet in his day that he would march straight into 
Richmond from the Peninsula. He was ignominiously 
kicked out by his friend, the enemy. He got another 


trial from another direction, but his overcanniness 
now caused him to fail again. Then Burnside had 
a trial, and we have seen how his over-rashness led 
to his getting beaten and driven back from Fredericks- 
burg. So Burnside had to give up command next, and 
another new broom was tried. This was our old 
friend Fio^htins: Joe Hooker. 

Lee, though, could not maintain an army of 100,000 
men behind Fredericksburg; besides, assistance was 
wanted farther south, and so, during the first three 
months of 1863, while Fighting Joe was busy reorgan- 
izing his army, Lee's army had dwindled down to 

But Joe planned the march of another army from 
the Peninsula to the east of Richmond under Keyes; 
while Stoneman was also to make a dash behind Lee 
— that is, between Richmond and that general — and 
destroy his communications. 

That was how things stood about the middle of 

Well, as to Osmond; he was one day writing a 
long letter in his tent to Eva, far away in England, 
and after he had finished it and sealed it, wondering 
meanwhile if it could ever reach her, he put to him- 
self this question; or rather, I should say, he put it to 

"Have we been fighting in a just cause after all?" 

You see Osmond had been thinking. 

Wolf heaved a big sigh, and wagged his tail. 


'• I'm willing to fight anybody you fight, master," 
he seemed to say, "now that my shoulder is well 
again; but between you and me and the tent pole I'd 
rather be romping with my mistress, little Eva, on the 
lawn in front of dear old Mirfields." 

"Slavery is a fearful thing!" Osmond said aloud. 

"Hullo! Hullo!" cried Harry, bursting into the 
tent, "what was that I heard you say?" 

" I said slavery was a fearful thing." 

"But, Osmond," said Harry, "we can't go against 
Scripture, my deaily beloved silly old cousin." 


" Ay, Scripture, boy. Wasn't there always slavery 
in Bible times. Doesn't God make some men for 
honour and some for dishonour? The slave who does 
his duty has a soul that will be saved and go to glory 
just as sure as yours or mine will, Os. But Heaven 
has set its seal upon him as far as this world is con- 
cerned. It is the brand of Cain, the black skin!" 

" A mere accident of birth, Harry." 

" Never mind, there it is. Nothing is made in vain. 
Society in this country is built of two different kinds 
of stone, the lower is granite- — that is the slave; the 
upper marble — that is the white man." 

"Heigho!" sighed Osmond, speaking again to Wolf 
apparently. " It does seem a terrible life a slave must 
lead if he has an unkind master. It is a delightful 
one on your dear old plantation, Cousin Harry, but 
on others' the slave is as likely to be ill-treated as 


the owner's ox or mule. His master owns him, body 
and soul, can beat him, starve him, ay, or torture him 
mentally or bodily, can take even his wife away or 
the children he loves, and sell them. And now, I can- 
not help somehow seeing the hand of God himself in 
this proclamation of Lincoln, emancipating the negroes." 

This proclamation came into force on the first of 
January, 1863, and created intense disgust in the 
Southern States. It was designated a gross violation 
of the usaofes of civil warfare. It was an incentive 
to insurrection of the most awful kind. 

All sorts of terrible proposals were brought forward 
by way of retaliation. Had they been adopted they 
would have been as foolish as they were fiendish. 
The "black flag" was to be unfurled, and a war a 
Voutrance declared. No quarter on battle-field or 
anywhere else was to be given or asked. No Federal 
prisoners were to be taken, all were to be massacred, 
and even the wounded on the fields of battle to be 
knocked on the head. 

"The hand of God, did you say, Osmond?" said 
Harry sadly. " O cousin, retract that sentence." 

" No, Harry, I will not, I cannot. Come, my boy, 
don't misunderstand me, I'm not going to desert your 
cause. No, no, no. And I hope to see this cause 
triumphant, and the power of the North hurled back 
and crushed ; but I shall live in the hope that when the 
South and North are diff'erent nations — for together 
they are far too large to be one — the Confederates, 


for whom I fight, will see their way to free their 

Harry was thoughtful for a moment, then he 
stretched out his hand to Osmond, who grasped it 
most cordially. 

" Osmond," he said, " for a few minutes I did think 
that a little cloud had arisen betwixt my brave Eng- 
lish cousin and me. Thank goodness it has passed and 
gone, and the sky from zenith to nadir is clear once 
more. Now listen, dear boy. Of late I myself have 
had my doubts about the justice of slavery, and when 
I have a plantation in our own dear sunny southern 
land, there will not be a slave in the place. Darkies, 
Osmond, there will be by the score, because I have 
been reared among them, and love their droll and 
innocent ways, but they shall be paid for all they do. 
Is that fair?" 

"It is; may God bless you, dear cousin, for that 
promise! Now you and I are better friends and more 
loving relatives than ever. I have always loved you as 
a cousin, Harry, now you are a brother. I shall live 
in the hope of visiting your plantation in that future, 
which I hope is not very far distant. Then, Harry 
lad, I will expect to hear you say with Cowper the poet 

" I would not have a slave to till my ground, 
To carry me, to fan me while I sleep 
And tremble when I wake, for all the wealth 
That sinews bought or sold have ever earned." 




WHERE is Chancellorsville?" said Osmond to 
Harry next day. "How far from here?" 

" Well," laughed Harry, " you're a pretty colonel 
not to have all our towns and villages engraven on 
your mind." 

"0, bother them!" said Os impatiently, "I'd rather 
fight your foes any day than be bothered remembering 
your long, and for the most part stupid names. But 
Hooker's intrenched at Chancellorsville, and we're 
going to fight him there, I expect." 

"Grand! we'll have some fun. Oh, the village is 
only eleven miles to the west of us, and it is south of 
the Rapidan, which flows into the Rappahannock, you 
know. But who is going against Hooker?" 

" Why, you and I, Wolf, and Stonewall Jackson." 

" It is good of you to put me first, and Wolf before 
Stonewall. But, I say, what will Fighting Joe do? 
Scrunch us all up, eh? You know he has an army of 
150,000, and we have but 50,000!" 

" Never mind, we're going to try. 

" It is really," he added, " General Lee's desire to 
crush Hooker's right, and Stonewall is going to do it." 

On the second of May, accordingly, Stonewall man- 
aged to get into the rear of Fighting Joe's army, while 
Lee engaged the front. 


It was eventide when the o-allant Stonewall came 
down on the astonished Federals. They were ex- 
pecting no such attack, but were quietly preparing 
their supper, when the wild slogans of the Southerners 
rent the air in their rear. 

Osmond, with Harry not far off, led a portion of 
that grand bayonet charge, one of the most terrible 
battles of the whole war. 

After some hours' fighting, Hooker was beaten and 
driven from his lines. 

Alas! though, this victory cost the South dear, for 
in the dusk of the evening, while riding some distance 
from his men, reconnoitring the enemy, Stonewall 
Jackson saw a body of Federals coming up, and rode 
quickly back to give the alarm. 

He was mistaken by outposts for one of the foe, 
and fired upon. No sadder thing happened in all the 
war. What made it still worse was that the Federals 
charged, and the fight for some time raged around 
Stonewall's fallen, bleeding body. He was twice shot 
while on the ground, and when at last the enemy 
retired, and poor, brave Stonewall was carried in, the 
doctors shook their heads, for it was evident the hero 
was doomed! 

Lee next turned upon Sedgwick, who threatened 
him. This general had been left near Fredericks- 
burg with 30,000, and finally got possession of the 
heights there. Lee sent Early to get him down. 
Early got him down with a vengeance, and the 

( M 132 ) B, 


slaughter was fearful, Sedgwick losing about 5000 

Well, Hooker had to recross the Rappahannock; 
Stonenian, who had intended to do such great things, 
ran; and Keyes, who, as I said before, was to march 
upon Richmond from the Peninsula, let off a few fire- 
works, and then made his feet his friends as fast as he 
could lift them. 

Surely then, Lee had proved himself a great general, 
thus beatiusf three Federal armies which together 
numbered more than 125,000 well-fed, well -clothed 
men: and all this with about 60,000 Confederates. 

Osmond had become very much attached to his 
great general, Stonewall Jackson, and when he heard 
that he was unlikely to live he was so much affected 
that he shed tears. 

He was allowed to see the brave and redoubtable 
hero, and, quietly where he lay, Stonewall thanked 
him again for having come to fight for the Southern 
cause, and gave him much good advice. 

"Trust for ever in the Lord, dear Colonel," were 
his last words to Osmond. 

Our young hero dared not trust himself to reply, 
for silently down his cheeks the tears of grief were 
coursing, but he took his general's hand and kissed it, 
then with bent head went sadly away. 

He met Harry next day. 

" So poor Stonewall Jackson is dead, Harry," he 


said. " I feel an aching void in my heart that it seems 
impossible ever to till. I don't think I'll ever fight 
with such courae^e ao^ain." 

" And I, too, am sad," answered Harry, " and not a 
man is there in our corps that does not feel he has 
lost a personal friend, nay more, a father." 

" Poor Stonewall, he will be mourned by North as 
well as by South — for even our enemies respected 
him — yes, Harry, and, in England also, and all through- 
out the world." 

" My dear Osmond," said Harry Blood worth, " there 
is, I note and have often noted, one particular fault 
you have in common with nearly all your countrymen." 

"Only one fault, cousin? I'm sure I have fifty. 
But out with it, Harry. 

" 0, I mean to, I assure you. I mean to let you 
have it straight. Well, the fault is this: in speaking 
of Britain you always call it England. You speak of 
the English army and the English navy. There is no 
English, only a British, army or navy. Is it fair, I put 
it to you, is it chivalrous to that country of warriors 
to which you are allied, wedded, amalgamated — put 
it as you choose? There may be a spice of jealousy 
in it. But why need there be? Although Scotland 
was the enemy of England so long, and always fought 
her one to five, sometimes even one to seven Saxons, 
and often whipped her, still England as England need 
be jealous of no people or land on the face of the 
earth. England as England is a land of chivalry and 


worth, but England, side by side with Scotland — ■ 
Britain, in other words — is the grandest nation, bar 
America, the world has ever known. 

" How would you like," continued Harry, " if the 
Scotch were to talk of Britain as Scotland and of the 
Scottish navy and Scottish army?" 

" It would sound silly." 

" It might sound silly, but Scotland, pardon me, 
whom England never could conquer, fell heir to Eng- 
land and its crown; the Scottish people therefore have 
infinitely more right to give a name to Britain than 
you English have." 

Osmond was silent. 

" Our best generals, Osmond, dear cousin, in the 
North as well as in the South, are Scotch, the next best 
are Irish." 

And Thomas Jefferson Jackson (Stonewall Jackson), 
reader mine, was both Scotch and Irish, and, as all the 
world knows, in his character he evinced the very 
best qualities of both these noble peoples! Stonewall 
might be called a soldier-born, for at the early age of 
nineteen he was a pupil in the Military Academy at 
West Point. At this college studied the immortal 
Grant, brave M'Clellan, Burnside, Foster, and others. 

He afterwards went to the Mexican War as lieu- 
tenant. His good conduct, courage, steadiness, and 
daring soon led to his promotion. He was attached to 
Magruder's battery, of which — strange how things 
turn out! — Fighting Joe Hooker, who, at the date of 


poor Stonewall's death, commanded the Potomac army, 
was the adjutant. 

Hear what Magruder said of him in Mexico: 

" If industry, devotion, talent, and pluck are the 
highest qualities of a soldier, then is he entitled to the 
distinction which their possession confers." 

After Stonewall returned from Mexico he became 
Professor of Natural Philosophy at Lexington. 

I am not writing Stonewall's life — though some day 
I may tell you all his story — so must rein up by 
saying that this true hero was a true Christian in 
thought, in word, and in very deed. 

Apart from the death of Stonewall Jackson, probably 
the event of the month was General Grant's decisive 
victory at Champion's Hill. 

After Grant ordered Sherman to proceed up the 
Yazoo to the north of Vicksburg and to attack Haines' 
Bluff from water and land, he himself took the rest 
of his army south for seventy miles, and near the 
Black River crossed the Mississippi. It was a stroke 
of genius, for while the Confederates at Vicksburg 
were all eyes and ears watching Sherman, Grant swept 
up north upon them, fighting battle after battle, and 
being victorious in each. He threw himself on Port 
Gibson, and captured it and one thousand prisoners. 

He fought the Southerners at Raymond, twenty- 
one miles south of Vicksburg, his bayonet charge being 
one of the prettiest on record. 

He had to fight a harder tussle at Champion's Hill, 


but although Pemberton, the Confederate, with his 
splendid artillery, fought like a lion, he was crushed and 
routed at last, and all his guns fell into Grant's hands. 

It is, meanwhile, with Lee we have most to do, and 
with our heroes Osmond and Harry. Nearly every 
hour the two young men could spare they spent in 
each other's company, and many a night by the camp 
fire, or apart from the noise and bustle of the camp, 
under some green tree or high up on a hill-top, did 
they sit and talk while moon and stars were shining. 

They had, it is needless to say, plenty to speak 
about. There was Osmond's home far away in Eng- 
land, Osmond's loving, gentle mother and sister — he 
had portraits of each — Osmond's steady matter-of- 
fact but honest father, and his sturdy brother Dick. 

"Ah! we'll see them all one of these days, Harry, 
when the war is over, for home to England with me 
you are bound to come." 

" If I'm not killed." 

"We're not going to be killed, Harry. I'm deter- 
mined we shall not." 

" And still you expose yourself wherever you fight> 
more, I think, than is necessary." 

" Nonsense! Besides, dear old Stonewall, my warrior 
father, taught me." 

Lee's army kept increasing now, for an invasion of 
Northern territory was determined on. 


This was a new campaign in reality. Stuart and 
his gallant, dare-devil cavalry were sent to keep 
Hooker back from the fords of the Rappahannock, 
and Lee sent his Generals Ewell and Longstreet along 
the south bank of the river to cross the Blue Ridge 
Mountains and get into the historical Shenandoah 
Valley. Milroy defended, but Ewell thrashed him 
soundly, and, crossing the Potomac, advanced upon 

General Hooker followed Ewell, and so by and by 
Lee got his whole army marched into Northern terri- 
tory and encamped at Chambersburg. 

No wonder the Northerners were now at fever-heat 
with terror and excitement, for even Baltimore itself 
— at which city Lee would have been welcomed by at 
least half the population — was threatened. 

Where was Fighting Joe? Had his right hand lost 
its cunning? Well, these were questions that every- 
body was asking up North. Everybody had trusted 
so much to Joe; he had promised so well, he had so 
much fire and dash and all the other good qualities, 
that when he was appointed everybody made sure 
that Lee would be smashed, and that Joe would soon 
be drinking wine, or whatever his favourite tipple 
was, in Richmond. 

But now there seemed to be no Fighting Joe ; and so 
the Federals grumbled and growled as Federals will. 

Meanwhile President Lincoln called for 100,000 
more recruits, and soon afterwards he deposed poor 


Joe, and appointed General Meade — who was said to 
be sombre, sober, meditative, and modest — in his 

Ever hear of Gettysburg, reader? No? Well, the 
town lies in the south of Pennsylvania, and has so 
many roads converging on it from all directions that 
it has been likened to the hub of a cart-wheel. 

And it was at this village, and on the heights near 
it, that one of the most important battles of this great 
war was fought, July 1st, 2nd, and 3rd, 1863. 

To gain those heights both Meade's and Lee's armies 
had a race. 

Meade won the race. 

Alas for the power and the pride of the South! 
Meade also won the battle. 

Oh, a terrible battle it was, reader, though I dismiss 
it thus curtly. 

Perhaps the hero of the awful fight was Pickett — 
he had once been a free lance, yea, even a filibuster, 
but here he led Longstreet's splendid corps. His divi- 
sion was all but annihilated. It is said that no less 
than fourteen field-ofiicers were struck down in 
Pickett's division, and two- thirds of his whole force! 

Was there rejoicing in the North after this? Need 
we answer the question? 

The Federals went wild, and when news came next 
to Washington that Vicksburg itself had fallen their 
cup of joy was indeed full. 


Port Hudson, too, had fallen, having capitulated to 
Banks on the 2nd of July. 

The Confederate iron-clad Atlanta was captured by 
the Weehawken. Morgan, the great free-lance cava- 
lier, was made prisoner. Fort Sumter was destroyed 
by the Federals, and Morris Island given up by the 

No wonder the Yankees believed that now or very 
speedily Kichmond itself would open her gates for 
their triumphal entry. 

Both Osmond and Harry had fought well and 
determinedly at Gettysburg, to say nothing of Wolf. 
However, our hero had not been in Pickett's division, 
and this may account for him and his cousin coming 
scot-free from that terrible fight. 



OH, I say, Harry," cried Osmond one day, " what do 
you think?" 
"I'm sure I couldn't guess. We haven't won an- 
other battle down South, have we?" 

"No; but I've had letters, from whom? Just guess." 

"I can easily guess by your face. Well, I've had 

letters, too, from the old plantation, and Father is well, 

and Mother and sisters, to say nothing of Uncle Neile, 


and Mammy, who wants us to make haste and whip 
the Yankees, and come home to eat 'possum and pump- 
kin pie. 

"Your letters are from the Brewers?" he added 
"Am I not right?" 

" You are. Well, here is Wolf, who wants a run. Let 
us get away from the camp. The day is bright and 
clear and warm for October. Look, how lovely the trees 
are taking on their autumn tints, and see, there are 
the flowers still in bloom ! Harry, I could write verses 
to-day, though you know our recent check at Bristol 
Station, by that dare-devil Meade, has almost knocked 
all the poetry and romance clean out of my system." 

"Well, anyhow, Os, we stopped the rascal from 
trotting on to Richmond, at Mine Run. ' 

They soon reached high ground, with a view, stretch- 
ing out far at their feet, of woods and wilds, and rolling 
waters that, under the sunshine of this bright October 
day, was beautiful in the extreme. 

" First, then," said Osmond, " there is a letter from 
Lucy herself." 

" Lucy herself ! Ha! ha!" 

It was really rude of Harry to laugh, but I dare- 
say he couldn't help it. 

" Well," said Os, bending down to pat Wolf, who 
had thrown himself at his feet, "I suppose you wouldn't 
care to hear that. It is, nevertheless, the sweetest 
little thing in letters, and the most innocent I ever 




" Yes; and all filled with good advice, and interlarded 
with quotations from Shakespeare, and from Holy- 

" Poor innocent ! Doesn't read much like a love 
letter, I should think?" 

" Well, n-no, not exactly, perhaps. But it is very — 
er — motherly, and all that. She tells me I must be 
sure not to get my feet damp. Oh, Harry, look at my 
boots, and my ragged nether garments!" 

"And look at mine," said Harry, holding up his 
feet. " I got these off a deceased Fed. Of course, he 
had no farther use for them." 

" Well, they are very much down at the heel, Major 
Bloodworth, I must admit." 

" Wait till we get to Washington. But, meanwhile, 
go on." 

" Oh, Mrs. Brewer writes a few lines. She says 
that Lucy talks about me every day of her life." 

"It is nice to be you, Osmond. Well?" 

"Well, then comes Captain Brewer's letter. It is 
just like himself — straightforward, bluff, and jolly." 

"Let me see," said Harry; "where do the letters 
hail from?" 

" Oh, they come, of course, like yours, straight away 
from the old plantation. I think it was a good idea 
giving everybody your home, Harry, as my permanent 

"Ah! I wish it was going to be your permanent 


address, my boy, and that we were never going to lose 

" But," said Osmond, " the Brewers are now at 

" What, in the old Mosquito V 

■'In the same old ship, and they safely ran the 
blockade not so long ago. But let the captain speak 
for himself. 

" ' We are safe enough for the present, dear young 
friend,' he says, ' but the blockade seems to get more 
and more diflficult to run every time. We have been 
five times chased since you left us, and sometimes I 
used to wish that your friend Kenneth was on board, 
just to give them a touch of our old soda-water 
bottles, as he used to call them.^ But as he wasn't on 
board, we did as little fighting as we could, and just 
as much running away as tlie dear old ship could stand 
up to. 

" ' Oh, bother the Federals anyhow, Osmond, and yet 
between you and me and the binnacle, this blockade 
running has made a man of me. Terribly dangerous 
work it is, I must own, but — well it is extremely 
lucrative; and as soon as the war is over, and you 
fellows have taken Washington, and dictated terms of 
peace to the Northerners in their own capital — how 
will they like it, I wonder? — I mean to settle down on 
shore, and have a pretty house, and a nice garden, and 
a lot of horses and dogs — oh, I tell you, Os, I have it 

1 The dahlgren guns were something hke a soda-water bottle in shajie. 


all mapped out. Often and often I think of it when 
lying in my bunk, especially on stormy nights, rocked 
in the cradle of the deep, you know. 

'"Well, now listen; I sometimes think of something 
else. I think that if, while running a blockade, a 
Federal shell were to burst inside our poor ship, what 
would become of us. I care little for my owm life, 
young friend. We've all got to die, you know, and 
the difference of a few years isn't much. But, though 
I'm a sailor, I cannot bear the thought of my wife and 
Lucy perishing before my eyes. 

'"So, Osmond, I have made up my mind now to 
leave them at Charleston till the war is over, though 
they would rather be out farther west, in the cool 
green country, I know, and I could run out to see them 
after every cruise. However, I must bow to fate and 
fortune, and I fear Charleston must be the home of my 
darlings for a time." 

At this moment, Harry clapped his hand on Osmond's 

" Look here, Os." 

" I'm looking." 

" Then listen, as well as look. Charleston is not 
going to be the home of Captain Brewer's darlings. 
Not a bit of it." 

Osmond was smiling now. Something told him 
what his cousin Harry was going to propose. 

" Write straight away to Charleston, and tell your 
dear friend Brewer that he is to take his wife and 


Lucy to Brooklands, our old plantation, that he will 
there get the very heartiest of welcomes, and that 
there his darlings must make their home till the wa,r 
is over. I'll write to Mother at once." 

"It is awfully good of you, Harry!" 

" Not a bit, man." 

"And I'll write at once, too, to the Brewers. I 
sincerely hope my letter will reach before the old man 
goes upon another trip. 

"'Well,' the letter continues, 'I haven't very much 
more to tell you. But one thing I must mention. My 
wife and Lucy, and also myself, got tickets in the 
middle of June last for a grand water picnic. It was 
going to be just about the biggest thing out. 

" ' We were going outside in two nice comfortable 
steamboats in the wake of the Atlanta ironclad. And 
where was the Atlanta going? you naturally ask. 
Why, she was going to whip the Federal turret-ship 

"'We — that is the brave Atlanta — were going to 
whip her all to pieces, and either sink her down, down 
to Davy Jones' locker, or take her in tow into the 
harbour. The captain of the Atlanta assured us he 
would, and we had the utmost confidence in his word. 

" ' We were all so happy and so merry, you wouldn't 
believe! Nothing would suit Lucy, who was dressed 
quite sailor-fashion and looked beautiful, but to get 
right up into the rigging, with her glasses, to see the 
turret-ship sunk, 


"'We were all happy, and hob-nobbed with each 
other, and the popping of champagne corks was for 
all the world like platoon-firing. 

" ' It was very, very early in the morning, but a 
lovely day. 

" ' Just outside the Sound the duel began. Alas ! 
and again alas! in less than half an hour after the 
battle commenced the show was over. It had been a 
tragedy in five acts, with a shot from the turret-ship 
ending each. 

"'Act I. Top of Atlanta's pilot-house blown off. 

" ' Act II. The shutter of a port-hole smashed, and the crew 

badly scared. 
" ' Act III. Another big shot. One man of Atlanta killed and 

fifteen wounded. 
" ' Act IV. The Atlanta run on shore. Wild cheering from 

the Monitor's crew, which, owing to their 

being confined under iron hatches, sounds 

like the humming of bees under an old tin 

pail. Tiring continued. 
" ' Act Y. The biggest shot of all. The A tlanta's ribs smashed. 

Lowering of the Confederate flag. 

" Well," said Harry, when Osmond had concluded 
this letter, " your friend Captain Brewer doesn't seem 
to take on much about it." 

"Not he. Captain Brewer always was a philo- 
sopher, I believe, and isn't the man to let fate crow 
over him. But now comes the last letter of the batch, 
and it is from Kenneth Reid." 

" Well, I'm sure you are pleased." 


" Yes, indeed I am, for you know I imagined he was 
dead long, long ago; dead and buried in the bottom of 
the deep blue sea; that the mermaids had sung his 
dirge, and — " 

" Come off," cried Harry. " I don't want poetry, but 

" Yes, cousin, fact is a fine thing. Well, here goes. 
I shan't read it all, because it is too long, but just 
a few bits." 

" Fire away, then. Can't you see I'm all impatience? 
You are like the Highland piper, Osmond, who took 
longer to tune his pipes than to play his tune." 

" ' I.S.A. Alabama, 
" ' Off the Cape of Good Hope, August, 1863. 

" ' My dear old Osmond, — I owe you ten thousand 
apologies for not writing you before. I'm not going 
to make one, however, because if you are still alive 
and not cut up into mince -meat long ago by the 
Feds, I know you will forgive me as soon as you 
look upon this scrawl of mine. 

'"My word, Os, what times we've been having! 
I've been just too busy for anything, lad, and where on 
earth or ocean is it we haven't been, flashing meteor- 
like across the waves, and sweeping the commerce of 
the Northerns off the seas. 

" ' Os, lad, when I was a boy going back and fore 
to school in Liverpool, I dearly loved sea-yarns, but 
stories of pirates best of all. Little did I imagine 


that I myself would one day turn pirate or corsair; 
but that is just what we are, and what I am. 

" ' But let me tell you how I came to join her. First 
and foremost then, I was stationed at Morris Island. 
I didn't half like it. They sent me to Fort Sumter. 
This was worse and worse, or, as the Scotch say, 
'waur upon waur's back'. The commandant, however, 
of this fort was a very jolly fellow, and so was one or 
two of the other officers. 

"'But, bless my eyes! being in Fort Sumter was 
like being in prison and in bondage, so I told the com- 
mandant I was going to do what the bad little school- 
boy did — run away whenever the fine weather came. 

" ' He laughed, but I told him I would. It was ter- 
rible to be in the midst of the sea, yet never feel the 
motion; to see ships sail past us day by day, yet never 
to tread their decks; to hear by day and by night the 
scream of the sea-gulls singing 'free-free-fre-er'; to 
feel the glorious breeze blow in my face, yet not be 
able to hoist a sail. And I, too, so fond of the sea! 
Couldn't I say with Byron: 

" ' And I have loved thee, Ocean ! and my joy 
Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be 
Borne, like thy bubbles, onward : from a boy 
I wantoned with thy breakers'? 

That was at Birkenhead, Osmond, or New Brighton, 
where I did my wantoning with the breakers 

" ' And trusted to thy billows, far and near, 

And laid my hand upon thy mane — as I do here.' 
(M132) S 


" ' No, as I couldn't do there. There was plenty of 
the ocean's mane about Fort Sumter when it blew 
about half a gale from the east, but you couldn't lay 
your hand on it, though it sometimes leapt up and cut 
you square in the teeth. 

" ' Hark ! It is the rattle of the drum beating to 
quarters. There is a ship in sight, my man tells me, 
and it may be a foe! I'll finish this letter when I 
come below. 

" ' Dr. L — has just rushed past my cabin, looking 
awfully solemn and business-like. He is going to 
spread out his surgical tools and things in case he 
may have a leg to lop off. Pirr-rr-rr-rr ! How that 
old drum does rattle, to be sure, and I hear the manly 
voice of Captain Semmes shouting orders from the 

"'I'm down below again. It was a false alarm. 
Nine out of every ten of our alarms are false ones. 
The vessel that hove in sight this time was the British 
gun-boat Penguin, and we hoisted flags and kissed 
hands to each other as we steamed past. 

"'Let me see, where was I? Oh, yes! When the 
drum began to beat I was at Fort Sumter getting a 
green sea in the teeth. 

"'Well, one day a stern-looking but kindly -faced 
sailor came off from Charleston to dine with our com- 

" ' We spent a very pleasant evening, and about nine 


o'clock, while we all sat smoking under the light of 
the newly-risen moon, the commandant pointed to me. 

" ' See that young fellow there?' he said. 

"'Umph!' grunted Semmes. 

" ' There was no need for a longer reply, for I was 
as plain as a door-knocker. 

" ' Well, he's the best shot in the fort.' 

" ' Glad to hear it I hope you like the fort, Mr. 

"'Like it, sir?' I answered. 'Indeed, indeed, it is 
all the other way. I hate it. I want more excite- 
ment. My commandant himself says I am a good 
shot, but, oh. Captain Semmes, what is the use of being 
a good shot if you have nothing to fire at of tener than 
once in a blue moon? I'm a sailor at heart, sir, and I 
want to feel the deck move under me. The deck of 
this old fort never does move.' 

" ' Semmes laughed heartily at this explosion, as he 
called it. 

" ' Bravo, young fellow ! ' he said. ' You're an Eng- 
lishman out and out, and I believe a plucky one too. 
Well, I'll steal you from your commandant, if he'll let 

"'I suppose I must,' said the latter; and I flatter 
myself he sighed. 

" ' I'm going across to Europe before long to take 
charge of a little craft there. Mr. Reid, will you come 
along? I'll show you fun, and fighting too.' 

'"Captain Semmes,' I cried, jumping up, 'you have 


made me the happiest young fellow on this side the 

" ' And nothing would suit me but to shake hands 
right off the reel with my new captain. And that was 
my first interview with Semmes, Osmond. 

" ' Now read on if you're not tired.' " 



I WAS now to be third lieutenant of the Alabama,' 
continued Kenn's letter, 'though till I left Charles- 
ton I had no idea what my ship was to be. 

" ' But just before I started, whom do you think I 
met on the street? Ah! I know you have guessed 
already. Well, there she was all by herself, a perfect 
little — not so very little now though — self-possessed 
lady, looking neither to the right hand nor to the left. 
How beautiful she was! Don't be jealous, Osmond. 
Pretty and clever though she be, I would not give 
Katie Bloodworth's little finger for the whole of her. 

"'I just went quietly up behind and said 'Lucy!' 
She started, then turned quickly round, and when she 
saw me she positively crimsoned with pleasure. But 
while she welcomed me with open — ahem! — well a 
hearty and modest little hand-shake, I could see a 



kind of far-away look steal into her eyes, and presently 
she said: 

" ' Where is dear old Wolf and Osmond?' 

" ' I told her all I knew, and we walked home to- 
gether to her father's hotel. How delighted both 
Captain and Mrs. Brewer were to see me! We dined 
together, and we talked together till midnight, and 
then I said farewell, 

" ' God bless yon, boy!' were the captain's last kindly 
words. 'Be sure to write us and let us know where 
you are.' 

" ' Next day I started, and in a week's time Captain 
Semmes and I were crossing the broad Atlantic. 

"'Now about the Alabama. Just fancy! she was 
built by the Lairds of Liverpool, my own dear old 
shippy home, or at Birkenhead, and it is much the 

" ' Captain Semmes wasn't a bit communicative till 
we had nearly reached across. 

"'Well, we weren't going to join the Alabama at 
Liverpool, of course. She was there though when I 
arrived, and I had a look over her. The name of our 
immortal craft then was merely The 290, and when I 
saw her first I did not think a very great deal of her. 
She was rather small to please me, and then, of course, 
she was all in a litter, as ships are in harbour, you know. 

" ' Well, I had not announced to my parents that I 
was going to pay them a visit. I just walked quietly 
in one day. I thought my dear mother would have 


fainted, and I do believe she would have, had not a 
flood of tears come to her relief. 

" ' I don't think I ever appreciated my dear parents' 
love fully before, Osmond. But at the end of a week 
I had to tear myself away again. 

" ' I wasn't going to leave England, however, till I 
had paid a visit to your dear old home at Mirfield. I 
wrote to Eva and told her I was coming, and your 
brother Dick — what a giant he is, Osmond! — drove to 
the station to meet me. I like him very much, though 
he is altogether your antithesis. So is your sturdy 
Yorkshire father. But you are like your mother, and 
that sweetest of sisters, Eva. She has promised to be 
my sister too, so that is all arranged. 

" ' But your people really didn't know how much to 
make of me, and I had to repeat all the story of our 
wild adventures over and over again, and tell them all 
about you and Wolf. 

" ' Eva was shedding downright sisterly tears when 
she bade me good-bye. 

"'Another sad parting, you see! In heaven, they 
tell me, there will be no more partings. Ah ! that will 
indeed be joyful. 

" ' Well, The 290 steamed away. (I only wonder the 
British government allowed her to leave.) The 290 
steamed away, and we (Captain Semmes and myself) 
followed her in another ship. So did one other vessel, 
and we all forgathered at Terceira.^ The other vessel 

^An island in the Atlantic, one of the Azores, 


contained her armament, and we soon had the guns on 

" 'A few days after we had steamed away from port 
Captain Semmes appeared on the quarter-deck in the 
full uniform of a navy captain of the Confederate 
States of America, and lashed to his sword. 

" ' With all due decorum and respect the British flag 
was hauled down, and in its place was unfurled the 
Confederate ensign. Captain Semmes now, in a short 
speech to his assembled officers and men, declared the 
vessel to be the Alabavia, and our mission to sink, to 
burn, or bond every merchant ship belonging to the 
Northern States that we could sight and come up 
with. Guns now thundered forth a salute, and our 
men shook the ship with a wild and thoroughly British 

" ' After this Captain Semmes shook hands with his 
officers all round, and several of us dined with him that 

"' We were all very jolly, but we officers being every 
one of us British, were not prepared for a proposal our 
Captain made after dinner. 

"'Gentlemen,' he said, 'I'm going to take you here, 
there, and everywhere all over the world. Our very 
safety will lie in our being ubiquitous. Our motto 
must be a double one, Ubique et nusquam, — Every- 
where, yet Nowhere. We shall be everywhere when 
not wanted, but nowhere if we are likely to be caught 
and blown sky-high by a Federal craft double our own 


size. At the same time, if we meet a man-o'-war of 
our own tonnage, or even half as big again, wliy, I'm 
going to fight; and I think I can rely on the trusty 
hearts that surround my little table to-night.' 

"' Hurrah!' cried my messmates. 'You can. Captain 
Semmes, you can.' 

"'But now,' continued the captain, looking a little 
more grave, ' I have one thing to propose, and that is 
this: Let us put wine and spirits on one side entirely 
while cruising. Let us never touch, taste, or handle 
any stimulant that is not prescribed by our worthy 
surgeon there. At sea we shall be always in danger 
of meeting Federal cruisers, for, depend upon it, when 
they hear of our doings — and with these doings the 
world shall ring — they will do their very utmost to 
capture, and probably hang us. You smile, officers; 
but I tell you the Feds are capable of any atrocity in 
creation. Let them never say, anyhow, we are wine- 
bibbers; and if we never drink while at sea we shall 
always be clear-headed and in fighting trim, even 
should the enemy heave in sight just after dinner. 
Gentlemen, I have made my poor little speech.' 

"'Captain Semmes and messmates,' said the first 
lieutenant, ' I for one agree to j^our proposal.' 

"'AndL' 'AndL' 

"'There wasn't a dissentient voice around the table. 

'''The Alabama therefore is virtually a teetotal ship. 

'"My dear old Oswald, I'm not going to pose as a 
poet, I can assure you, unless it be in borrowed plumes, 


but T can assure you, lad, when I found our ship 
bounding o'er the waves like a thing of life, with the 
glad sea sparkling around us in the bright autumnal 
sunshine, our decks as white as ivory, our guns like 
solid jet, our brasswork like burnished gold, and every 
snow-white rope coiled and in its place, the words of 
Byron's spirited and beautiful poem would keep crowd- 
ing in my mind: — 

'"O'er the glad waters of the dark bhie sea, 

Our thoughts as boundless and our souls as free, 
Far as the breeze can bear, the billows foam, 
Survey our empire, and behold our home ! 
These are our realms, no limit to their sway — 
Our flag the sceptre all who meet obey.' 

"' Yes, Osmond, and now the world was all before us 
where to choose. And I for one was just as jolly as 
a nigger boy in a sugar hogshead, or old Uncle Neile 
eating 'possum and pumpkin pie. Bless his old black 
face! Don't I long to see it once again, and Mammy's 

'"Well, lad, I don't think our brave sailors missed 
their grog at all after a day or two, and I am sure 
their yarns were just as pithy and the songs they sung 
as heartfelt, for I used to listen to them after sunset 
around the fo'c'sle head. 

" But you know they had plenty of good tea, coffee, 
and tobacco. And we should not fall short of either; 
Captain Semmes would see to that. 

'"Hark! that shout from the masthead! 


"'Sail 0—0!' 

"'Where away?' cries the officer of the watch. 

"' What do we make of her? Why, a Northerner, Os. 
It is the 5th of September, and a never-to-be-forgotten 

"' The captain himself comes up, and it hardly needs 
the rattle of the drum to bring us all to quarters. 

'" Yes, a Federal. We fire a blank shot, but she 
keeps on. 

" ' She walks the waters like a thing of life, 
And seems to dare the elements to strife.' 

"'Ah! we soon alter all that. A round shot goes 
tearing through her rigging, and in five minutes or 
less she has hauled her fore-yard aback, and soon we 
are alongside, 

" ' The first lieutenant's boat is lowered, and away 
she darts across the water, and ere long is back, with 
the skipper in the stern, 

"'She is a prize! She is condemned! She will be 
burned! It is Semmes himself who gives the order, 
with a nod of apology to the skipper. He, however, 
is taking it very coolly, and is smoking a very large 

" ' The crew and officers of the doomed ship are taken 
on board of us, with their bags and valuables. Then 
we do a little private looting under the rose, and by 
and by rolling smoke and flames arise from the 
captive, masts soon fall hissing into the sea, and down 


sinks her blackened hull with a plunge that can be 
heard on the Alabama's decks, though we are nearly 
a mile away. 

' * The captured officers are admitted on parole, the 
crew is made as comfortable as possible; but our own 
safety demands certain restrictions. 

"'Dear Osmond, that is our method, and in two 
months' time we had made no fewer than twenty-one 
captures ! 

"'From every vessel taken we brought away the 
chronometer, just as hunters bring back with them 
the tail of the poor fox that has been broken up by 
the hounds. 

" ' I am writing this off the Cape, Osmond, and at 
this moment Captain Semmes has in his cabin sixty- 
and-five foxes' tails; no, no, I mean chronometers. 

" ' When I meet you next, Osmond, lad, I'll tell you 
all our adventures, many of which you will find 
romantic enough to please even you. For, mind you, 
ladies both young and charming are often among our 
prisoners, and have had to make quite long voyages 
with us, and some of our fellows have fallen in 

" ' To ladies Captain Semmes is extremely chivalrous 
and polite, and we officers have often given them and 
the children the use of our cabins, while awnings have 
been spread expressly for their comfort. But at first 
when they come on board they look upon us as pirates 
or cannibals. A day or two alters all that, and then 


the Alabama is like a ship off for a picnic at sea; the 
children playing about the decks, riding on the guns, 
and having grand games of romps with the men on 

" ' Sometimes the ladies have pets, a parrot, a dog, or 
even a cat, and these are treated, like themselves, with 
the greatest courtesy. A lady, whom with others we 
landed at Cape Town only the other day told me that 
her adventure was one she wouldn't have missed for 
anything, and she would ever remember the kindness 
she had experienced on board the Alabama. 

" ' We gave the Cape of Good Hope people a treat 
one day not long ago. We had captured a I'ederal 
not far off the shore, and we burned her that night 
just outside the three-mile limit. It had got whispered 
around that we were going to do so, and the hills were 
crowded with sight-seers. 

" ' Our life at Cape Town and Simon's Town, in the 
charming and romantic bay of that name, has been 
quite idyllic. 

" ' The little Georgia and Florida have also been 
anchored there, and the three of us formed quite a 
dashing little fleet. 

" ' Had we met the big Vanderbilt, who is in search 
of us, it would indeed have been a bad day for her. 
But single-handed we shall give her a wide berth. 

" ' The officers of the navy ships here at Simon's 
Town are exceedingly good to us, and many a long 
drive and shooting expedition have we had together 


among the gorgeous mountains that spread in crimson 
and purple glory 'twixt there and Cape Town. 

'"Good-bye, dear lad, my watch has just been called.' ' 



HOW is it all going to end? Was that what you 
said. Colonel Lloyds" 

It was Captain Trouville who spoke. A man of 
forty. An American by birth and a Southerner, a 
handsome, daring, dark-haired officer who had lately 
joined Osmond's command. Trouville was French by 
extraction, with a dash of Scotch blood and a suspicion 
of Spanish. A strange mixture of races, you may say. 
True, and yet although great families in Britain put 
their faith in old stock, I am not sure but that a little 
dash of foreign blood does good. Is it not its inter- 
mixture of nationalities that has made America what 
it is, and Americans what they are? 

When Osmond put the question, he with his cousin 
Harry and this brave and handsome soldier of fortune 
were lying on rugs close to the camp-fire sipping their 
coffee. Trouville was rolling cigarette after cigarette, 
and these disappeared one by one about two minutes 
after he put them to his lips. 

" Well," he added, " that is a question nobody could 


answer just straight away. I myself, Colonel, keep 
on fighting, you know, and leave thinking alone. I 
guess it" I was general now I'd have to light and think 
too. Thank goodness I ain't. I don't take any respon- 
sibility, I don't, except just to see that my sword is 
sharp and my revolvers clean. Well, I've fought 
pretty much all over the universal earth, and fighting 
has become a kind of second nature to me. Why, sir, 
if an expedition was started to sail off to the planet 
Mars to conquer that bit of a world I'd join to-morrow. 
It would be a change, and I reckon we'd make the 
Marites sit up. But about this war — and it is the 
biggest thing by chalks ever I've been in — I don't 
know for certain how it's going to end, any more than 
this honest dog of yours, Colonel. 'Tween you and 
me and the moon, though, I shouldn't wonder if we 
get licked." 

"Never!" cried Harry impetuously. "Never, while 
there is a man left to wield a sword or bayonet in the 
Southern States, shall we yield or rejoin ourselves to 
the accursed North. Even were our armies defeated, 
routed at every point of the compass, broken and dis- 
integrated, for ten long years, ay, for a score, if need 
should be, we'd carry on a guerrilla war against our 
foes — a war so bitter, so harassing, that in time the 
Feds would submit to separation, and the star of 
Liberty should shine o'er all our darling native land." 

"Well spoken. Major," said Trouville quietly; "but 
spoken, pardon me, like a young man." 


" I can't help being young." 

Trouville held out his hand, which Harry took half- 

" Glory in it, sir. Glory in your youth, but never 
deny that if a man walks through life with his eyes 
open till he verges on forty, he gains experience, and 
can afford to laugh at the will o' the wisp he used to 
chase at twenty, and took for solid reality. A man 
of my age. Major, who has fought everywhere, is going 
to keep his eye on the balance when honour and glory 
is put in the scale just to see how much they really 
weigh. Again, a man at my age knows when he is 
beaten, and takes it easy, and he doesn't hesitate to 
accord honour to whom honour is due, even if it has 
been gained by a foe. 

"Now, friends, when last year closed things were 
looking uncommonly bright for our cause. There 
wasn't a Federal general we hadn't whipped, some of 
them over and over again. But ah! boys, haven't the 
tables been turned, or got twisted somehow? Just 
remember, we have been worsted by Meade. Just 
remember that Vicksburg and Port Hudson have been 
taken, that Grant has whipped us at Chattanooga — 
Jeff Davis himself has admitted that — ah ! boys, that is 
a serious blow for the Confederacy, the thin end of 
the wedge that may split us up. The two chief towns 
in Mississippi and Arkansas the Feds have a firm 
hold of, also of Tennessee and Louisiana. The great 
father of waters, too, the Mississippi River, is theirs 


from source to sea. We are beaten, boys, beaten on 
land, beaten upon the ocean wave. And, mind you, 
I have fought on both. And in February — it is now 
the end of March (1864) — we find that Lincoln has 
called for a new and terrible army of 500,000. Doesn't 
that mean business, boys?" 

" What about the battle of Olustee in Florida ? " said 
Osmond laughing. 

" Ah ! yes, the Federals got left there, and your old 
friend Beauregard, marching straight from Charleston, 
just whipped them prettily; but, ah! that is but a drop 
in the great bucket, lads, and I tell you this, if the 
Confederacy is to be saved, we've got to have more 
luck, and do more furious fighting than ever we've 
done before." 

" I half believe," said Harry, somewhat haughtily 
and huffily, "that you j^ourself, Captain Trouville, 
have leanings towards the Federals." 

Trouville quietly rolled another cigarette and lit it 
before he answered. 

" Fifteen years ago, Major, had any brother officer 
made such a remark to me I should not have been 
content till I had wiped it out in blood. To-day I am 
older, wiser, but you may one day find that you are 
mistaken ; then, as you are a good-hearted though 
hot-headed lad, you'll be sorry." 

Trouville had got up. He stooped down to pat the 
dog, then bowing to Osmond, walked quietly away 
into the outer o-loom of the niuht. 



" I think you were wrong, Harry," said Osmond. 

" Well, perhaps you're right. I feel rather sorry 
now," said Harry. " I shall apologize when I see him 

"Alas!" said Osmond sorrowfully, "that may never 
be. In a war like this one knows not what a day or 
an hour may bring forth." 

I am of opinion that when Lincoln appointed General 
Grant commander-in-chief of all the forces of the 
United States, which he did in the month of March, 
1864, he had placed the right man in the right place 
at last. 

Henceforth and to the bitter end it would be Grant 
and Lee — two of the greatest generals that the world 
has ever seen. Grant versus Lee. Who shall win? 

I should be sorry at present to even seem to give 
either name the preference. 

Well, Grant had made up his mind now to march 
forth and cross swords with this truly great warrior, 
who never had been beaten without inflicting greater 
losses than he received, and from whom so many noted 
Northern generals had fled in wild disorder. The 
warrior was now on the Southern side of the river 
Rapidan with his splendid army of nearly 80,000 sol- 
diers. War-worn, weary, ragged, and not over-well 
fed were they, yet the blood of the south leapt in every 
vein, and in their hearts a deadly hatred of the North 
and a determination such as the Scots had at the Held 

( M 132 ) I 


of Bannockburn to " do or die ". But think of Lee's 
danger and the terrible odds against which he would 
have to fight. For on the opposite bank of the Rapidan 
was Meade, whom he had already checked in his mad 
rush on to Richmond. And Meade's army consisted 
of no less than 95,000 real soldiers, good and true, 
not raw recruits, but men that had fought, many of 
them at all events, from the very commencement of 
the great struggle. 

Behind Lee was the " Wilderness ", a tangled forest 
— a region of worn-out tobacco fields, covered with 
scraggy oaks, sassafras, hazel bushes, and weird-look- 
ing pines, the whole intersected with narrow roads 
and deep ravines. 

It was towards this wilderness to do battle with 
Lee, with whom he had not yet crossed swords, that 
Grant was advancing. 

All this was well known to Lee, but no fear, no 
doubt, was in his mind. Strategy, he knew, was half 
success, and he determined that though he might be 
outnumbered, he should not be outgeneralled or out- 

That Captain Trouville was grievously hurt at the 
innuendo thrown at him by hot-headed young Harry 
Bloodworth had been evident enough. But it was 
not on this account that the captain had volunteered 
his services for outpost duty in the Wilderness. He 
simply liked such duty, and considered himself — as 


indeed he was — eminently fitted for it. So for a 
whole week neither Harry nor Osmond saw anything 
of him. 

Meanwhile Osmond himself had volunteered for ser- 
vice of quite a difterent and far more dangerous char- 
acter. Lee required a trustworthy and reliable man 
to reconnoitre. Unusual stir and bustle had been ob- 
served in the camp of the enemy for some days. The 
question Lee wanted to solve was this: Had Grant 
crossed the Rapidan, or was he expected ? The general 
had asked Osmond to recommend him a man. 

"He must return to me, if not slain, within two 
days," said General Lee. 

Then the thought had at once occurred to Osmond 
to undertake the duty himself. Here was a chance of 
relief, and a romantic one too, from the dull monotony 
of camp life. 

" General Lee," he said boldly, " I will go on this 
reconnoitring expedition." 

" Do you know that you will be shot as a spy if 
you are discovered. Besides, I am unwilling to risk 
the life of so valuable an officer as you, Colonel 

But Osmond was bent on the adventure. He quickly 
formed his plans, and at last General Lee consented. 

Desertions to the enemy's forces were of everyday 
occurrence, sad to say. The men who so deserted 
were perhaps Federals at heart, or they were traitors. 
At all events, in Meade's army they saw the prospect 


of good food and better clothing, with a better chance 
of life perhaps, and far fewer hardships. 

Osmond laid his plans well. As he bade good-bye 
to Harry late one night in early May he patted his 
faithful dog. 

"Take the utmost care of him, Harry. Be a good 
dog, Wolf." 

These were his last words. Then he passed out 
alone, and made the best of his way to the river. He 
exchanged signs and words with the sentries by the 
banks, then plunged quietly into the stream. 

Osmond was a strong swimmer, and there were the 
lights of the camp fires on the other side to guide him. 

By arrangement, his own sentries shouted and fired 
at him, the bullets of course going very wide of the 
mark. But they put those on Meade's side on the qui 
vive, and presently they assisted in dragging from the 
river a very wretched-looking figure indeed. 

It was Osmond — Osmond in disguise — he was bare- 
footed, bare-headed, and in rags, and shivering too, or 
pretending to shiver. 

He was dragged rather unceremoniously towards 
the fire-light, and presently brought before the officer 
on duty, who was writing in his tent. On looking up 
he eyed Osmond for a few moments rather haughtily 
and suspiciously. 

" Who or what are you ? " he said. 

" I'll tell you what I am first," replied Osmond, 
quietly returning the other's gaze. " I'm precious cold 



and precious liunoiy. If you have any kindness in 
your soul you'll let me exchange these rebel rags for 
something warmer by the camp fire yonder. When 
I've had a bit to eat I'll tell you all you want to know, 
and more." 

"You are a bold young fellow," said the officer. 
"Take him away," he added, turning to a couple of 
soldiers who stood near his chair. " The poor devil's 
teeth are chattering. He is dying of cold. See to his 
comforts. He is either a deserter or a spy; bring him 
back in an hour." 

This order was obeyed, and when he again pre- 
sented himself and stood at attention before the Federal 
officer he looked a very different being. 

" Now then, perhaps you'll be good enough to tell 
me something of your antecedents and the circum- 
stances to which we are indebted for your visit." 

Just then, and before Osmond could speak, a ser- 
geant stepped forward. 

" We found this broken bracelet attached to one of 
his wrists, sir," he said. 

The bracelet was portion of a handcuff. 

"Ah! young fellow, you've been a prisoner among 
theRebs? Why?" 

" Because I tried this game before." 

"Desertion? Eh?" 

"You may call it so; I don't. I am no rebel." 
Osmond held up his head with pride and pretended 
anger as he continued. " I am an Englishman, I have 


been forced into the rebel army and compelled to fight 
against my will." 

" And now you want to fight on our side a bit? Eh ?" 

"No, sir, I have no desire to do that either, but I 
don't mind, if it will result in my being sent home, or 
even as far as New York, where I have friends." 

" Stay," said the officer, " can you give me any proof 
of what you say? For aught we know, you may be 
a spy." 

" I can show you a letter from my sister. We belong 
to a good family; but I ran away from home — like a 

As he spoke, he clapped his hand to his breast. 
Then with an appearance of chagrin he turned quickly 
to his escort. 

" The letter is in the pocket of those rebel rags of 
mine. I hope you haven't destroyed them." 

The sergeant laughed. " We didn't keep them for 
their value," he said, "but they were too wet to burn. 
Here is the letter; I kept that. It's a bit damp, sir," 
he added, placing it on the little tent table. 

It was Eva's letter. It had been addressed simply 
to Mr. Osmond Lloyd, to the care of Mrs. Bloodworth, 
&c. Before leaving his own side, however, Osmond 
had changed the word Lloyd into Flogden. 

The letter itself was one that nobody could have 
forged. Truth and innocence breathed in every word 
of it. The officer's eyes were really moist with tears 
as he handed it back. 



" I cannot help believing you after that," he said. 
" What a gentle, loving sister you have! You shall 
see General Hancock on parade to-morrow, and all 
that is possible will be done for you. We shall expect 
you to fight with us, however, for some time. Good 

" Good night, sir! A thousand thanks!" 

And Osmond went off with his new comrades. 

But the real ordeal had yet to come. 



IT was late next afternoon before Osmond was 
brought before General Hancock, who stood in 
front of his tent. All the day he had been left pretty 
free, although in reality watched, and many were the 
observations he had made and stowed away in the 
storehouse of his memory. For late that very night 
he meant to make his escape, and swim back once 
more to his own camp. 

General Hancock was too busy to waste much time 
over a deserter. 

"You're quite sure. Captain Brown, he is a deserter? 
Well, that is enough," he said. 

Then he put several questions to Osmond as to the 
strength of Lee's army, to all of which our hero 


answered truthfully, for well he knew that Hancock 
had long ere now obtained the information from other 

" Take him away," said the General. 

Osmond was congratulating himself inwardly on the 
success of his adventure. 

He saluted General Hancock, and was just turning 
round, when, to his horror, he saw Wolf in the distance. 

Next moment, the faithful animal was barking and 
leaping around his master in the wildest exuberance 
of delight. 

Osmond had turned deadly pale. The game, he 
feared, was lost. He was certain of this when, next 
moment, an officer stepped up to the general. 

" Pardon me," he said, " this man is a spy." 

"A spy!" 

" Yes, sir. I felt half sure before. Now, I am 
cocksure. He fought against us, he and his dog, at 
Malvern Hill, and in two battles before that." 

"His name, then?" 

" Lieu tenant- colonel Osmond Lloyd." 

"Is this true, sir?" 

" True in every word." 

" And I am truly sorry for one so young. But duty 
is duty. You die at sunrise." 

" I am ready. And the dog, sir ? " 

" Yes, the dog. He must die too." 

" General Hancock," said Osmond, and his voice was 
trembling somewhat now, " I have one favour to ask 


nay, even two. I should like to write home, and like 
that my dog and I should be together till sunset and 
— together die." 

''Granted!" And the General turned away. 

Poor Osmond! He had been brave enough while 
still in the presence of the general, and surrounded 
by his foes, and not even till the shades of night 
began to fall around the tent in which he was 
ironed and confined, did his heart begin to sink. 
He had written his last letters home, and hard in- 
deed had he striven to make them consolatory, even 
cheerful. It was to his dear mother he had written 
principally, with notes for his father, for Dick, and 
Eva. That loving and gentle sister of his! He felt 
that he had never loved her before as he now did. 
But he told them all that he was going to die the 
death of a soldier, and prayed them for his sake not to 
mourn too much; the thought, he said, that they would 
obey this last request of his was all he had, save the 
sweet consolations of religion, to keep him from despair. 
He begged their forgiveness for having ever left home, 
and concluded by assuring them that in a few short 
years, — that would not seem long when they had passed 
away, — they would all meet in the land where there 
would be no sorrow, no pain, and where God the Lord 
would wipe the tears from every eye. He wrote to 
Harry a long, kind letter, and to General Lee a brave 
one. His mission had failed. No one was to blame. 


He — Osmond — had taken all the risk, and he now 
gladly took the consequences. This letter ended with 
the words: 

" God save the Southern States ". 

But to Lucy Brewer he wrote a letter of a different 
character. A long one it was, and as he wrote it, all 
the romance and poetry of his character seemed to 
come uppermost, and I think, nay, I am sure, this 
letter was sadly blurred with his falling tears. What 
did he say in it? Oh, I could not tell you all, but 
he told her only the truth. Since that night when 
she and he had played the balcony scene from 
Romeo and Juliet in the dear old ship Mosquito, he 
had loved her. She was his ideal of all that was best 
and most beautiful in her sex. It was no boy's love 
his, and his dream had been ever since that night that 
she would have — He broke off here and signed the 
letter hurriedly. 

Then a man entered and took the letters away. 

So fell night and darkness, and to-morrow he must die. 

Oh what a comfort it was, however, even in this 
hour of sorrow and grief, to have honest Wolf by his 
side! Poor fellow! Little did he know that his very 
faithfulness was soon to cost his master his life, and 
that he too would be shot at sunrise. 

Osmond was confined in a tent that stood on high 
ground, not far from the river, but away from his 
camp some little distance. The night had closed in 


dark and starless, and the wind ever and anon shook 
the tent, causing the canvas to flap. 

An armed sentry paced round it every two or three 
minutes, and sometimes looked in. But the prisoner 
was so heavily ironed that chance of escape was im- 
possible. In two hours' time that sentry was relieved 
by another, and shortly after, Osmond fell asleep, his 
head pillowed on the dog's body, as many and many a 
night he had slept before in the happy times for ever 

It must have been long past midnight. Osmond 
was dreaming that he was back at Mirfields in the old 
library, with Eva by his side and Wolf by his feet, 
when suddenly the dog growled low and ominously. 

"Hist! hist!" said a voice. "Keep the dog quiet." 

Osmond was for a few moments utterly bewildered. 
Presently, however, a light was flashed along the iron 
bar to which he was made fast. A minute more, and 
both Wolf and he were free. 

"Lead the dog. Grasp this cord, and I will lead 
you. Follow silently." 

He and his tall guide, who loomed before him like 
a spectre, were soon threading the intricacies of a 
dark forest. On and on they went for a whole hour, 
Osmond never daring to break the silence. 

At last they reached a bend in the river. Here he 
could dimly see a skiff with a man in it. 

"Good-bye!" said his guide. " You are safe. I must 
hurry back before I am missed." 


"God bless you, sir! But whom shall I thank? 
Your name, that I may breathe it in my prayers?" 

But the tall figure glided from his side without a 

Wolf and he now entered the little boat, and in ten 
minutes' time were safely landed. But not until he 
and his boatman reached the Confederate camp did 
he know that the latter was none other than Captain 

"How shall I thank you, Trouville?" 

They were now at Osmond's tent. It was well lit 
up, and Harry was waiting. 

"Trouville," he said, as he welcomed Osmond and 
Wolf with open arms, " whom I so grossly insulted, 
did all this. He crossed the river and penetrated the 
camp to our Cousin Tom's tent, and— and you know 
the rest." 

"And was the tall form who set us free really my 
dear Cousin Tom?" 

" No other. Sit down and eat." 

Strangfe, indeed, are the changes that a few hours 
can bring about in times of war. 

But never before had Osmond or Harry enjoyed 
so hearty and happy a midnight supper. Trouville, 
too, confessed himself as happy as a king, and Wolf 
certainly was far haj)pier than any king that ever was 

The information gained by Osmond's daring feat 


was not lost npon General Lee. He knew now that 
Grant would soon cross the Rapidan, and that an 
attack might be expected almost any day or hour. 

"When Greek meets Greek, then comes the tug of war." 

And in Grant and Lee certainly Greek met Greek. 
That week's awful fighting, after Meade — the Federal 
generalissimo's right-hand man — crossed the Rapidan 
is terrible even to contemplate. 

Grant, you must bear in mind, dear reader, had so 
laid his plans that at least three great armies were to 
advance on Richmond almost at the same time. 

Grant had sent off Sherman to confront and hold 
in check the Confederates in Georgia, while he him- 
self took in hand the Virginian campaign against 
Lee. Meade's army was to cut Lee off from all sup- 
lies, General Sigel was sent down the historic Shenan- 
doah Valley to break communications with Richmond 
from that direction, and to advance thence towards the 
long -wished -for Confederate capital, while Butler's 
army was to come up the James River from the 

The forces thus arrayed against Lee would amount 
to 150,000 men all told. Surely terrible odds! It takes 
a hero, brave and true, to stand calmly up against an 
array like this. But Lee was that hero. He had 
drawn the sword, and, having drawn it, had thrown 
the scabbard far away. 

The terrible slaughter that occurred in that wild 


wilderness is a matter of history. How Grant and 
]\Leade thundered on, how Lee resisted, and in resist- 
ing rolled the forces of the enemy back, broken and 
discomfited, is a story too long to tell here. Sufiice it 
to say that Grant's repulse on the second day cost him 
15,000 men, and Lee probably but few less. Yet the 
latter wisely fell back two or three miles to Spott- 

His short retreat was construed into a victory for 
the Federals, and telegraphed from the Wilderness as 
such, and far and near away in the North the waiting 
Federals went wild with joy. Hancock, who had 
smashed Longstreet at Gettysburg, tried to repeat his 
success on the Sth of May, but was hurled backwards 
in bleeding rout. 

The fight raged on for days and days. On the 11th 
Grant had victory almost secured, but Lee, with 
Longstreet's gallant fellows, dashed up, and once 
again the balance was equal. 

Further defeats of the Federals took place not long 
after this. General Sigel, whom Grant had sent to 
the Shenandoah Valley, was defeated by Breckinridge, 
and on the 3rd of June Grant himself was defeated 
at Cold Harbor. Ten days after this we find 
Grant trying to march upon Richmond from another 
quarter. He had well rested his troops in the Penin- 
sula, then skilfully feigning another forward attack, 
drew them off", crossed the James River, joined 
Butler's forces, and marched upon Petersburg. Could 


he but take this city he would sever the connection 
between the Southern capital and the sea. 

But this town the Southerners meant to hold. 

"It shall be defended," said the general in com- 
mand, "on its outer walls, on its inner walls, at its 
corporation bounds, in every street, and around every 
temple of God and altar of man." 

And Grant's designs, as far as Petersburg was con- 
cerned, were doomed to be frustrated, for the present 
at all events. He spent weeks in trying to undermine 
the works. When the mine at last exploded, there 
was a grand charge through the gap, and in this 
attempt Grant was once more foiled, and lost over 
4000 men. 

The Northerners now began to lose heart once more 
— Northern civilians, that is. But neither Grant nor 
his men did so. It is true that he was draining the 
best blood of the nation. But blood alone, he told his 
officers, would win in the end. Such a general as Lee 
was not to be conquered with rose-water. 

One thing is certain, at this stage of the fearful 
conflict, if Grant had not quite succeeded in under- 
mining Petersburg his repeated blows were under- 
mining the army of his brave antagonist. 

South from Petersburg runs what is called the 
Weldon Railway. Grant now attempted to capture 
and destroy this line. Lee's isolation would then be 
far more complete. 

Terrible fighting took place for this railway, and 


never had the Confederates behaved with such 
splendid valour before. 

Alas! it was Colonel Osmond Lloyd's last battle. 

It was on the last day of the fight for the line in 
which Grant was — in a series of glorious charges in 
which Osmond and Harry both took part — defeated, 
and forced to retreat along the line with a loss of a 
thousand killed and two thousand prisoners. 

At the head of his brave regiment, and on horseback, 
Osmond was leading a charge, when suddenly a strange 
numbness seemed to seize him — no pain, however. 
Then some one, he thought, in whom he was very little 
interested, was falling. After this all was dark. 

When Osmond recovered consciousness he was lying 
in his tent, and somebody sat by his side. 

" Water, water," he murmured, and a cooling drink 
was placed to his lips. 

" It is you, dear Harry. How am I here?" 

" You are wounded. You must be very quiet." 

" But just one question, Harry. Are we victorious?" 

"Yes; victorious, dear cousin." 

-Is— is— Wolf safe?" 

"All safe. Wolf is near you now." 

Hearing his name mentioned. Wolf got up and went 
to his master's side and fondly licked his cheek. 

But for this noble dog, poor Osmond might have 
bled to death. 

By his pitiful bowlings he had attracted the surgeon 
of the regiment to the spot where Osmond fell, and a 


tourniquet was immediately put upon his wounded 

The hand had, while our hero was still unconscious, 
been removed at the wrist, or rather a few inches 
above it. 

"Good Wolf, brave old dog! I'm happy now. I 

He did not conclude the sentence, but dropped off 
into a gentle and peaceful sleep. 

Things were going hard, hard against the Confeder- 
ates now. Even their friends in England shook their 
heads, and admitted that it was only a question of 

Sherman, one of Grant's greatest and cleverest 
generals, had captured Atlanta. That was the big 
event of September. Sheridan, also, a dashing young 
Irishman and another well-chosen general, had twice 
defeated the Confederate General Early. Grant had 
ordered Sheridan to devastate the Shenandoah Valley, 
and right well and terribly had he done so. After 
destroying Early's army he spread his cavalry through- 
out the valley, and in order to make it no longer habit- 
able for the Southern foe, the whole country from 
Blue Ridge to North Mountain was turned into a 
howling wilderness. Two thousand barns filled with 
wheat and hay and seventy mills filled with flour 
were burned, and four thousand head of stock driven 
before Sheridan's army out of the once lovely vale. 


So complete was the desolation that it was said that 
if a crow wanted to fly down the valley after Sheridan 
left it, he would have to take his own provisions with 

But Early was reinforced, and returned intent on 
revenge towards the valley. 

Sheridan was then absent from his army, which 
was posted at Cedar Creek, and this Early attacked. 
Sheridan returned in time, however, to save it, and 
turn what otherwise would have been a victory for 
the South into a rout — into, I might say, utter annihi- 



WE are back once more on the old plantation. The 
group around the fire and in the cosiest room 
in Brooklands one wild and stormy night towards the 
close of March, 1865, was as strange an one as could 
well be imagined. 

Although war had raged around this plantation, 
and many others had been laid in ashes by the enemy, 
or by raiders — of whom there were many about — 
singularly enough, Brooklands had escaped. 

But let us see whom all we have here to-nig]it. 
It is not a very merry meeting, you must understand. 
The children, Harry's younger cousins, are romping 


about, as children will, no matter what the grief or 
sorrow may be, but their elders are talking in voices 
that are subdued though not low. Yet at times words 
are lost, if not whole sentences, in the roar of the 
storm that goes howling around the old mansion, 
rattling the window-sashes — howling like hungry- 
wolves in the wide chimney. 

In a large easy rocking-chair at one side of the 
ingle is Mr. Bloodworth himself — nay, let me still call 
him Major Bloodworth, no one more deserves that 
military distinction. His wooden leg is stretched out 
in front of him. It forms a support for the cat's 
head as half -asleep she winks and blinks at the 
fire of logs that burns so cheerily on the low hearth. 
On a bearskin close to pussy sleeps honest Wolf. He 
seems more at home here than on the battlefield. 

Sitting by his father's chair is Harry, his arm rest- 
ing affectionately on his old dad's shoulder. 

Two ladies are in the opposite ingle-nook, and both 
are dressed in deepest mourning, for one — Mrs. Blood- 
worth — has lost a son, as we know, and the other, poor 
Mrs. Brewer, has been deprived of a husband. 

Yes, good old Captain Brewer sails the seas no 
longer. What he feared would occur took place more 
than a year ago. The Mosquito was sunk by a Federal 
shell some miles to the east of Charleston Sound. 
Only six of the crew were saved, for the vessel, which 
was heavily laden, went down in five minutes from the 
time the shell exploded. 


Long before this, Mrs. Brewer and Lucy had 
accepted Harry's invitation, and gone to live at 

Lucy and Katie are yonder now with the children, 
and more like sisters do they appear than simply 
friends ; but Lucy is tall now, and the promise of 
beauty she gave when just entering on her teens has 
not been belied. She is seventeen now — sweet seven- 
teen — and there is one in the group around the fire to- 
night whose gaze often turns in Lucy's direction, who 
thinks her more beautiful far than she was when a 
child romping with him on the decks of the old 

This is Osmond, as you can easily guess. His left 
sleeve — at least the lower part of it — is empty and 
tucked up, but otherwise he looks as hale and hand- 
some as ever. 

At this moment, during a lull in the conversation, 
Osmond gazes thoughtfully into the lire. Is it an 
extra gleam from those blazing crackling logs that 
casts an additional glow over his face? No, reader; it 
is the memory of that letter which he wi'ote to 
Lucy in his prison tent while the shadow of death 
was darkening over him. The letter — ah! well does 
he remember it, and every event of that terrible night 
— had been an impulsive one, but then he believed it 
would be the last ever he should write to the girl. 
And in it he had told her how he loved her. 

But now he is telling himself sadly — things are 


altered. He has been back here at the old plantation 
for several months, but he has never dared nor cared 
to breathe a word of love to Lucy. Not that his feel- 
ings are altered. O, no, not in the very least! but 
how can he — a maimed and wounded old soldier with 
only one hand — talk of affection other than that of a 
brotherly sort to the young and beautiful girl, the 
most perfect and lovely in his eyes, of her kind? No, 
to do so would, he feels, be to insult her, and, strange 
to say, he has seemed rather to avoid Lucy than other- 
wise since his return, very much to the girl's wonder- 
ment and sorrow. 

But return we to the group around the fire. There 
is only one other person here to whom I have not 
introduced the reader. 

He is a tall and handsome man of probably seven- 
and-twenty, with a bright laughing face of his own, 
and as he takes the cigar from his lips, and looks 
across at Major Blood worth, that face beams with 

" I must say, Uncle," says Cousin Tom, for it is he, 
" that you take a very reasonable view of the matter." 

But stay, before we listen to the conversation, let us 
see how Tom came here, and why Harry himself is 
not still with General Lee, who is even now standing 
like a lion at bay and preparing to make a last and 
terrible stand for life and freedom. 

And this takes us back many months to that 
fearful and bloody fight for the Weldon Railway. 


When Osmond came to his senses in the hospital 
tent and found his Cousin Harry seated by the side of 
his rude couch, little did he know that he too was 
wounded. But so it was. Only a flesh wound, Harry 
had told the surgeon who bandaged up his chest that 
a bullet had torn open. 

The surgeon shook his head. 

"Flesh wounds," he said, "are dangerous at times; 
you had better take to bed." 

But Harry had refused. 

"No," he said, "I will take my turn in nursing 
Cousin Osmond till he is out of danger." 

And so he had. But in a week's time he had 
a cot in the same tent as Osmond, for alarming 
symptoms had set in, and the surgeon positively 
compelled him to keep in bed. 

Youth and a hardy constitution, however, soon pulled 
Harry well away from the precipice of danger, and by 
and by the two cousins were able to talk to each 
other about all their battles and adventures. 

One day a skirmish took place between Lee's out- 
posts and those of the foe. The latter were driven in, 
and a sharp fight ensued, wdiich at the commence- 
ment of the war would have been called a battle. It 
resulted in victory for the Confederates, and tliey 
marched back singing, with many wounded and a few 

There was one officer among the latter, and he was 
immediately put upon parole. 


General Lee himself saw him, and when the pri- 
soner told him that he was a cousin of Colonel Lloyd, 
and had saved that officer from death when condemned 
to be shot, Lee hardly knew how to thank him. 

When, therefore, this stalwart cousin marched into 
the hospital hut one day, and Osmond saw before him 
the very figure that had guided him safely through 
the woods from his prison tent to the darksome river, 
he could scarcely believe his eyes. 

" I'm Tom, Cousin Tom," the tall officer said, as soon 
as he could find words. 

"Oil," cried Osmond, "how can I ever thank you?" 

The two shook hands. 

" I hope," continued Osmond, " I may have a chance 
of doing the same for you, or even more, some day." 

Tom laughed till the medicine bottles and classes 
all jingled and rang. 

"Do the same for me? I hope you'll never have 
the opportunity." 

" But how on earth are you here, Tom?" 

" Prisoner, that's all. Your ' Uncle Lee ' is a splendid 
fellow, and has put me on parole. May I smoke?" 

" Certainly, Tom." 

Down Tom had sat between the two beds, and the 
conversation became general. 

Just a month after this Osmond and Harry were 
invalided, and Tom, still on parole, was permitted to 
accompany them home to the old plantation. 

Nobody ever knew the terrible risk that Tom had 


run in saving his Cousin Osmond's life, nor does any 
one know even to this day how he managed it. 

But to return to our group round the fire. 

" Yes, Uncle," said Tom, " you take a reasonable and 
common-sense view of the matter." 

The major smiled sadly. 

" Our cause is lost," he said. " Lee may fight another 
battle or two, and then — 

"I have only one regTet," he added, "and that is, 
that the Feds did not whip us sooner. Your Pre- 
sident Lincoln is a wise and a far-seeing man as well 
as a good man, but had he taken a more serious view 
of the matter at first, and called at the very com- 
mencement for his huge levies of three hundred and 
five hundred thousand men, what a lot of lives would 
have been spared, and how much fewer grief-stricken 
widows and orphans would there be now in our land! 
As for slavery, God — I can see now — has ordained that 
it shall cease in this land for evermore. I bow to His 
will. Our slaves are free, and yet — " here the major 
smiled — "you see, Tom, my boy, not one has left the 
old plantation!" 

The conversation now took another turn. 

" What do you think, Tom," said Osmond, " was the 
bravest deed of the war?" 

Lucy and Katie had come to the fireside and sat 
down in the inner circle, beside great Wolf, to listen. 

Tom looked thoughtfully into the fire for a time 
before he replied cautiously: 


" Of course," he said, " you talk of individual acts 
of courage. " Well, leaving such men as your dear 
old Stonewall, and even Sherman and wild young 
Sheridan and our Meade, and several more, out of 
the question, I think the bravest deed was that done 
by young Gushing, or that by young Eric Dahlgren." 

" I have my man ready," said Osmond, " when you 
are done. This letter from my dear friend Kenneth 
Reid speaks of him, but you must go on first. Cousin 

" No, you, Os, you." 

" No, but you," said Katie, touching big Tom's knee 
with her fan. " Begin with Eric Dahlgren, he is 
Lucy's hero!" 

Osmond heaved a sigh, but nobody heard it. 

" I'm not good at telling a story," said Tom, " but 
we were in the army of the Potomac when the affair 
occurred, and it wasn't very long after your General 
Lee, Cousin Osmond, so completely checked our career 
as we were dashing on to Richmond. 

"Terrible stories of the bad treatment of our 
prisoners in Richmond had reached our ears, and 
though they angered all that believed in them, they 
completely fired the blood of young Eric. He was 
only twenty-one, and already a colonel in our service. 

" ' Hurrah, boys ! ' he said one evening to his mess- 
mates tjy the camp fire. ' Let us deliver those prisoners.' 

" Nobody replied. The others thought young Eric 
had been drinking. 


" ' Men/ he said, ' we've got to die but once. I pro- 
pose we do a deed that will make those Southerners 
sit up, and rub their eyes, and stare. A deed of justice; 
yes, and a deed of revenge!' 

" Stripped of all romance, Eric's plan was to dash into 
Richmond, seize the warehouse where they said our 
poor fellows were kept in darkness and starvation, 
and slaughter afterwards as many of the Confederate 
Cabinet as the party could lay hands upon. 

" Eric got plenty of volunteers, and on this daring 
expedition he actually started. When it is remembered 
that this brave young fellow was still suffering from 
wounds which caused him great pain I cannot help 
thinking that his was one of the bravest deeds of the 

"Did he succeed?" said Lucy. 

"Alas! how could he? His corpse and those of his 
brave companions were shortly afterwards being kicked 
about by the rabble in the streets of Richmond!" 

" Poor Eric!" sighed Katie. " But what about Gush- 
ing? I love sailors best." 

Katie blushed, and looked shyiy up to see if anyone 
had noticed. 

"Well," said Tom, "I myself am half inclined to give 
the palm to the sailor. 

" Away up the Roanoke River, then, last October, 
and not long before we reached here, Katie, there lay 
the Confederate ram Albemarle. She was a kind of 
twin sister or brother of your terrible MerriTnac that 


destroyed our Cumberland and Congress in Hampton 
Roads, and which you afterwards blew up to prevent 
her falling a prey to our Federal fingers. . I can tell 
you, Harry, this awful ship of yours — the Albemarle 
— was a terror to our gun-boats and cruisers, and when 
young Willie Gushing one day coolly proposed to cut 
her out, or rather to blow her sky-high, daring though 
they knew him to be, his messmates only laughed at 
him. But a man can live a long time after being 
laughed at, and as the young fellow had already proved 
in many a daring fight — while bullets flew around him 
as thick as hail — that he bore a sort of charmed life, 
he soon got many to listen to his hazardous pro- 

" The whole of Cushing's early life is a romance, but 
I'm not the man to paint it. Only, he was just twenty- 
two years of age when he started on this expedition, 
and a lieutenant in our navy. 

" He got permission at last from his superior officers 
to try his hand upon the ram, and soon he had thirteen 
brave volunteers all eager and willing to do or die 
with him."^ 

" What was my hero like?" said Katie. " Have you 
seen him. Cousin Tom ? " 

"Yes, frequently. He was very tall — well, nearly 
my own height — but far better looking and not so 
burly, Katie, as I am. Willie Gushing was slim and 

1 By some accounts, volunteers were called for, and brave Gushing, out 
of all those willing to undertake the adventure, was chosen. — Author. 


spare, with a face as brown as the back of my fiddle, 
and an eye like a hawk's. 

" The little steam launch which Willie chose for his 
desperate adventure was as slim and shapely as Willie 
himself. Running out some distance from and over her 
bows was a light spar that could be easily raised or 
depressed by the hero himself. Attached to the end 
of it was a torpedo filled with 200 pounds of gunpowder, 
and this could be fired by a trigger and string that 
went aft to the stern-sheets, and were in command of 
Gushing himself. 

" For days and nights before starting Willie and his 
bold crew manoeuvred, no matter how bad the weather 
might be, in and out among^ the Northern fleet, and 
then, when he considered that the drill had made 
everything and everyone ship-shape, he prepared for 
his terrible adventure. 

"On the 27th of October Willie Gushing shook 
hands with his messmates and started off" in earnest." 

Gousin Tom's cigar had gone out, and before going 
further with his yarn he stooped to light it at a log. 

All waited expectantly. 



lee's last STAND AT RICHMOND. 

IT was going to be do or die," said Cousin Tom 
quietly. " But, Katie, I reckon you would hardly 
have thought Willie much of a hero as he stood up 
in the stern-sheets to raise his shabby cap to the 
officers who stood looking down at the slim figure with 
the well-worn coat buttoned up to his neck. No, he 
wasn't a great beauty just then. 

" Many a heartfelt prayer went after him as the 
little launch faded from view in the shadow of the 
trees, and the gathering gloom of the night. 

" But on went Willie, and never a word was spoken. 

"Unseen they passed the pickets and even guard- 
boats below the town, and many another station. 

"Here, Katie, is how my informant writes about 
Willie's rush up the river: 'At one station, to banish 
the chill air of this October night, a large pinewood- 
fire had been kindled, and so close were they that they 
could see the gleam of the men's rifles and even hear 
them laughing and singing, as they discussed their 
tankards of apple-jack. And the glare of that fire 
glimmered red and rippling across the water, while 
the background against which the men stood out was 
like some weird scene in a pantomime, a dark and 
tangled jungle, a mass of cloudy undergrowth, and 


above were the solemn trees with ragged tufts of moss 
swayed to and fro in the wind.' 

" And now Willie began to approach the wharf near 
to which lay the monster ram. 

" In a low whisper he gave orders to ship the boom 
and torpedo. 

" This was done calmly and quietly by his well- 
drilled and gallant crew, and the trigger-line placed 
close to Willie's hand. 

All was ready, but now came danger, ay, and diffi- 
culty also, for lights were suddenly flashed from each 
bank across the water, revealing the daring cutter's 
advance, and at once the sailor hero was angrily chal- 

" ' Who goes there? Speak, or we fire!' 

'"Yankees, you donkeys!' thundered Gushing in 
reply, laughing loudly and jeeringly. 

"Then, indeed, all was confusion. The launch's sides 
were torn and split with the volley fired from the 
banks. The guard on the wharf rushed blindly forth 
in the dark. Bells and alarms clashed in every direc- 
tion. Open were dashed the ports of the monster ram, 
and her big bow gun seemed to be fired at random. It 
did no harm, but good, for its flash revealed the over- 
hang of the iron monster, and showed Willie where 
the torpedo should be placed. 

"But tlie terr^jle difiiculty lay in the fact that the 
vessel was surrounded with at least twenty feet of 
floating logs. Against this, at full speed, down came 

lee's last stand at RICHMOND. 319 

the launch, — Willie, tiller in hand, in the stern, standing 
erect like the hero he was, the bullets whistling around 
him and even rending his clothes. 

" It was a terrible moment. I daresay Will could 
never tell how he got over or past the logs. But he 
did. The torpedo was quickly depressed, and al- 
though at the same moment a cannon that smashed 
the launch all to smithereens was fired from the ram, 
it was the last shot the crew ever fired. For at the 
same time Will had pulled the trigger, and Plymouth 
itself shook with the roar of the explosion that 

" Only four escaped of Willie's crew besides himself. 
But the ram was sunk! The deed was done! 

" After swimming for hours, it seemed, Willie found 
himself among the reeds of a swamp, but so tired 
that he could not even crawl to the dry land. But 
next morning, as good luck would have it, he found a 
skifi" belonging to the enemy, upon which he embarked, 
and escaped to a friendly shore. 

" Surely no braver deed was ever done either in 
ancient or modern times!" 

There was silence for a time after Tom had con- 
cluded, then Lucy looked smilingly up at Osmond. 

" Yes, it is your turn. Colonel," she said. 

" Well," he replied, " I have had a letter from Ken- 
neth. He tells me that we may expect him out here 
any day, and he desci'ibes the last fight the Alabama 
ever had. 


This was the historic battle of the renowned cruiser 
against the Yankee frigate Kearsarge, which protected 
her sides with chain cables and sank the Alabama in 
two hours. 

" But my little story of heroism centres around 
the brave — truly brave — surgeon of the Alabama, 
Dr. L.— 

" For this calm, courageous man went down with 
the ship rather than hazard the lives of the wounded 

" ' The last boat,' says Kenneth, ' to leave the sink- 
ing ship's side was laden and almost ' lip ' with the 
water, and we shouted to L — ' Come on, doctor. Come 
quick. Jump for your life. We'll make room for 

" ' But gallant L — only shook his head. ' There 
are more wounded still here' — I think he said — 'I 
must stay and do my duty.' 

'"And stay he did. We saw the ship heel over soon 
after, and clinging to the bulwarks, but calm and self- 
possessed, was the doctor. He lifted his hand as if 
bidding us good-bye, then — 0, my dear old Osmond, 
that sight I'll ne'er forget. And we all loved the 
quiet and gentle L — so much! He had endeared 
himself not only to Captain Semmes, but to every 
man and youngster in the crew. Is it any won- 
der then, that when we saw our brave ship take 
her last and fearful plunge with the doctor on her 
deck, that we lay on our oars gazing aghast and 

lee's last stand at RICHMOND. 321 

dumb? Yes, in that boat, Os, there were big strong 
sailor men who clapped their hands to their faces and 
wept aloud.' " 

Osmond quietly folded the letter and put it away. 

Then during the silence that ensued, Cousin Tom 
stretched across and grasped Osmond by the hand. 

" Your hero has it, cousin," he said. " Your hero 
has it!" 

And all seemed to agree. 

Long before this wild March night, events had 
happened, and were even then happening, that showed 
to every one that the end was not far distant. 

Sherman had been doing big things. His great 
march through Georgia is one of the events of the 
century, and it would hardly be wrong to say he was 
the conquering hero. 

Well, perhaps not always. The greatest and bravest 
generals that the world knows or has known have 
suffered defeat and discomfiture at times. But in 
making Sherman one of his chief generals. Grant, I 
think, proved that he was a far-seeing as well as a 
clever and brave comn^ander. 

After the battles of Averasboro' and Benton ville, 
at which bold Johnston may have been said to fire 
his last shot at Sherman, the latter entered Goldsboro' 
and established communications with Grant. 

About a month before this the city of Charleston 
fell, and after it Wilmington capitulated. 

( M 132 ) X 


And now we return to Lee. 

There was life in the old dog. Nay, let me rather 
say in the lion. He was, indeed, the lion-hearted Lee. 
Yes, there was life in the lion, and on March 25th, 
only six days before the final convulsive struggle, 
the lion made an attempt to burst his bars and dash 
through the lines of gallant Grant. 

That sortie from Richmond was a brilliant thing in 
its way, and right well Lee's poor ragged and hungry 
soldiers fought. They even captured a portion of the 
earthworks, and for a time spread panic and confusion 
throughout the monster camp. But such a sortie 
could have but one ending, and so the brave fellows 
were defeated and driven back pell-mell, and with 
sickening slaughter. 

Just as we see a fire that we think has burned it- 
self out suddenly leap into newness of life in another 
direction, in the same way did the Confederates spring 
to life again, and on the 30th of March repulse the 
daring young Irishman Sheridan. 

After this dashing soldier had made "a final end" 
as he called it, of Early's army, he speedily destroyed 
the railway 'twixt Richmond and Lynchburg in the 

Then northwards went he, hurried at once to assist 
Grant against Lee. He got to the east of Richmond, 
crossed the James River, and, wheeling round, formed 
into position on Grant's left. 

Now Richmond, Petersburg, and Burkesville are the 

lee's last stand at RICHMOND. 323 

corners of a triancrle, its three sides being lines of 
railway, and to take Burkesville would be to com- 
pletely isolate Petersburg and Richmond, because the 
line there formed a junction. 

" This must be done," said Grant. 

" Never while I can wave a sword," said Lee. 

So the latter placed his army on the south-side line 
'twixt Petersburg and Burkesville. 

The Confederates were beautifully planted here with 
well-posted artillery and earthworks, a rivulet in 
front and woods behind. 

Now listen to what occurred. 

Sheridan's horse came wildly on, first west and then 
northwards, with the intention of turning Lee's right 
flank. He was well supported by Grant's left, but so 
hot and fearful was the Confederate fire that Grant's 
regiments were at first beaten and hurled back, all but 

Soon afterwards, however, the Federals once more 
pulled themselves together, and so fierce and furious 
waxed the fighting, that, under the leadership of the 
fiery Sheridan, not only were the ragged Confederates 
sent reeling back to their earthworks, but some of 
these were actually captured, and the defenders pitch- 
forked out of them at the point of the bayonet. 

Grant now placed Sheridan in command of the whole 
of his left wing, and next day this gallant hero com- 
menced the battle of Five Forks, the last great stand 
of the Southerners under General Lee. 


Pickett did all that mortal man could do to repel 
the terrible assault. 

The thunder of his guns was said to be incessant 
and fearful, the rain of bullets as thick as hail. This 
last is, of course, only a figure of speech, but this final 
struggle was indeed an awful one. The ground was 
thickly strewn with the dying and the dead, riderless 
horses galloped wildly over the fields snuffing the air 
and screaming in dread. Cheer after cheer, yell after 
yell from the combatants rent the air, but nothing 
could withstand that charge, and, assailed both on front 
and rear, the Confederates fled at last, leaving guns, 
artillery, everything in the hands of their victorious 

The pursuit was kept up until darkness, more 
merciful than the exultant foe, descended and hid the 
poor Southerners from sight. 

Grant attacked Petersburg that very night, and 
brilliantly carried line after line. 

The place fell. 

Then Lee fled west, and made one last and final 
eflbrt to get clear, but all was in vain. So, about a 
week after this, the great general surrendered uncon- 
ditionally to Grant, the conqueror. 


It was Sunday (April 2nd, 1865) and the President 
of the Confederate States — President now no more 

lee's last stand at RICHMOND. 325 

— was seated in church at Richmond, when slowly, 
shyly up the aisle, with hat in hand, came a mes- 

He handed Jefferson Davis a despatch, and this 
fallen monarch — if so I may dare to call him — 
knitted his brows as he read it, and, it is said, turned 
as pale as death. 

With weak and staggering steps he left almost at 
once, and terror took possession of the hearts of the 

" The city" ran the despatch, " tnust he abandoned 

The panic that now ensued was terrible. The in- 
habitants of the capital had hitherto been buoyed up 
with false hopes. But now these were in a moment 
ruthlessly kicked from under them, and despair took 
their place. 

An earthquake could not have caused greater terror. 
What could they do, whither could they fly, where 
hide themselves from the vengeful foes that soon must 
crowd their streets? 

Towards night, terror and tumult were increased 
tenfold. A wild and disorderly mob took possession 
of the streets, a mob more remorseless and cruel than 
even the northern foe would have been. 

Wine and spirits were seized and drank till men 
were changed into maddened murderers, howling 
fiends. Even when the rum and whisky were rolled 
out and emptied in the streets, like the beasts they 


were they drank it from the gutter, and many drink- 
ing, died. 

Windows and doors were smashed, robbery, violence, 
plunder went on in every street, in every direction, 
and now and then the shots fired and the knives 
flourished told that murder too was stalking abroad. 

Meanwhile, the military commandant, in order that 
nothing should fall into the enemy's hands, foolishly 
set on fire the storehouses and blew up the ships on 
the river. 

This was the commencement of a pandemonium 
which neither pen nor pencil can describe. For in an 
incredibly short time one-third of the whole city was 
in a blaze. Amidst the crackling of the flames on this 
awful night could be heard the drunken yells of the 
plundering mob, shrieks of women, and cries of scared 
and helpless children. 

From afar General Weitzel, who held the Federal 
lines north of the James River, saw the glare of light 
in the sky, and even heard the roar of exploding 
shells and magazines. Too well he guessed what had 
happened, and at daybreak he rode in front of his 
forces to take possession of the doomed capital, from 
which long ere now both the President and Military 
Commandant Ewell had fled in disguise. 

Onward the Federals went through the now deserted 
Southern lines. Only one sentry here still stuck to 
his post, because he had not been relieved. Weitzel 
made his way to the Capitol Square, and soon in the 


lee's last stand at RICHMOND. 327 

morning breeze the Stars and Stripes were fluttering 
from the Capitol itself. 

But what a scene was here in the square! The poor 
women and children huddled together in the centre, 
trying to screen themselves and their little ones from 
the scorching heat by means of the few chattels and 
household goods they had struggled hard to save. The 
sick, the aged, infants, and the dying all crowded 
together! It was a picture such as Dante himself 
could scarce have imagined. 

To make matters worse, the criminals of the State 
Penitentiary had got loose, and ran amuck and wild. 
They even cut the hose of the engines, which some 
were trying to work that they might extinguish the 
raging flames. 

As quietly and calmly as possible General Weitzel 
now set himself to fi^ht the flames. The whole of 
Devon's division was marched into the city for this 
purpose. Everyone who could be pressed into the 
same service was sent to assist, and the now freed 
slaves gladly gave all the help they could. 

This then, reader, is one more scene from the great 
Civil War. And it is the last. 

It is due to the Federals to add that their presence 
in Capitol Square, when the cavalry first went rattling 
in there, instead of scaring the poor women, served to 
give them heart and joy. 

In their delight they even crowded round the 
soldiers, kissing the very bridles and stirrup-leathers 



and hugging the horses' legs, while the tears rolled 
down their cheeks. 

In the midst of the great rejoicing caused by the 
capture of Richmond and the surrender of Lee, 
there fell an awful gloom on the Northern States, 
for President Lincoln, the generous, kind, and 
true, was shot in the theatre at Washington, by 
the hands of the cowardly assassin, John Wilkes 



NEWS often travels slowly in war times, and what 
with the destruction of railway lines and tele- 
graph wires, when it does find its way to outlying 
districts it is often sadly garbled. 

Although Major Bloodworth was in almost daily 
expectation of hearing of the fall of Richmond and 
the end of the great Civil War, day after day went 
by, and still the news came not. Yet now and then 
there were rumours that Grant had been beaten. But 
as this was deemed impossible, by not only Cousin 
Tom, but even by Harry and Osmond, no attention 
was paid to them. 


Meanwhile, for a time at all events, life at the old 
plantation was as quietly happy as if such terrible 
scenes as those I have tried to portray had no exist- 
ence in this world. Spring had come too, for it comes 
right early in Southern States, and indeed it was 
almost summer. The woods were musical with the 
song of birds; the trees were draped in leaves of 
softest green, through which the wind seemed to 
whisper, and sing, and sigh; the fields with their wild 
flowers were a sight to see, and the perfume of the 
wistaria that adorned the darkling pines was sweet as 
the scent of orange blossom. All over the porches and 
verandahs of Brooklands were clustering flowers, and 
in the gardens the beautiful kalmia was all in blossom. 

Many a picnic did the cousins and Lucy now have 
by stream, by lake, and in the wild woods; and if at 
times sad thoughts of those that they should never 
see again in this world took possession of their minds 
it did but chasten and render holy their happiness, 
without stealing it quite away. 

Old Uncle Neile and Mammy gave another enter- 
tainment, as the good old darkie grandly called it. 
The first portion of the treat took place one moonlight 
night in the forest. For the dogs treed the 'possum, 
and finally he was caught and killed. Another and 
another followed, and younger niggers than Uncle were 
sent oflf post-haste with them to old Mammy's cottage. 

Uncle Neile was in fine form that night. He was 
bareheaded, having somehow lost his cap, and the 


moonbeams glinted on his hair as if it had been a ball 
of snow. 

"Ah!" he told Osmond, " der am nuffin on earth to 
beat de 'possum. 'Possum, pork, and pumpkin pie, 
and dere you is set up for life. Ha! ha! Yes," he 
continued, " de Lawd hisself sent de 'possum to make 
glad de heart ob de pore black man. An' de 'possum 
he am a curious critter too. No matter how of'en you 
kills him, he shuah to come again, all de same anoder 

" What, the same 'possum?" said Osmond laughing. 

" De same 'possum, foh true, jes de same ole 'possum, 
bress de Giver ob ebery good thing." 

Well, in memory of old times Uncle Neile took 
down his fiddle, but he couldn't be prevailed upon to 
play anything but slow music. 

" W'en I plays a jig, shuah enufF, sah," he said to 
Cousin Tom, " de> tears come plenty quick, cause I thinks 
on dose dat we will neber, neber see again." 

So that night, after songs were sung, Katie and Lucy 
and the children, two of which Mammy must take on 
her knee, sat round the fire, and Cousin Tom lit his 
pipe. Then they talked about old times. A kind of 
desultory conversation it was, but on the whole it was 
very enjoyable. 

In the midst of it, however. Uncle Neile's door was 
suddenly thrown very widely open indeed, and in 
dashed a breathless and excited nigger. 

Wolf sprang up with a "habbering" growl, and 


would have dashed at the young man, had not Osmond 
seized him just in time. 

Uncle Neile sprang to his feet. 

" Young man," he said, " I'se de master ob dis enter- 
tainment. We waits, sah, to hear de cause ob dis 
unsightly obtrusion." 

"Oil!" gasped the nigger, "I'se jes' fit to drop, I'se 
gone dun fifteen mile. I'se 'scaped from de hands ob 
murderers. Gib me some 'fleshmcnt. I'se ready to 

" Young man," said Uncle Neile, " dere is de 'mains 
ob de cold 'possum what Wolf can't eat. You may 
hab dat soon's you tell de story." 

The negro's story was soon told. He had been 
miaking his way to the mansion-house to give an alarm 
when he saw lio-hts in Uncle's cottao-e, and rushed in 

Concerning his escape from robbers and murderers 
there seemed to be little doubt. He had been tied to 
a tree, but had gnawed through his fastenings, while 
the raiders — for such they were — were making their 
evening meal. There were fifty of them at the very 
least, and from what the nigger was able to learu they 
were marching on to Brooklands to loot the place and 
lay it in ashes. As this was to be done as much for 
revenge as plunder, Osmond and Harry doubted not 
for a moment that the leaders were a portion of the 
gang with whom they had fought on the highway 
while conveying home their wounded father. 


So Uncle Neile's party was very unceremoniously 
broken up indeed, and all haste was made back to the 
mansion. It was cheering, at all events, to know that 
they would not be taken unawares. 

Long before this, in expectation of just such a raid 
as that by which they were now threatened, an earth- 
work with small corner forts was thrown up all round 
the mansion-house and gardens. 

And now inside this the slaves — now free men, 
however — were hastily summoned and armed. Their 
wives and little ones were made as cosy as possible in 
the kitchens and outhouses. 

Everything in three hours' time was made perfectly 
ready to give battle or to stand a siege. 

It may be remarked here, that among the ladies 
there was no veiy intense excitement and terror, such 
as we should find under the same circumstances in 
countries not so accustomed to wars and rumours of 
wars. Yet from the description given of him by the 
young negro who brought the intelligence, Copperhead, 
the road-agent, who would lead this raid, was one of the 
most active and most dreaded in the country. He had 
come from the Wild West, and used to boast that he 
thought no more of taking life than cleaning his gun. 
As he had journeyed eastward raiding and robbing he 
had gathered around him a band of fully five hundred 
characters, as desperate as himself. These were distri- 
buted in gangs of fifty or a hundred here and there, 
throughout that portion of the state to which he was 


paying attention, and they had their regular rendez- 
vous or nieeting-phxces, generally in the dark depths 
of some wooded defile, where, on the edible and potable 
portion of their plunder, they held high carnival. 

But Copperhead had for some time attempted to 
legalize his dark doings, after a fashion, by hoisting the 
flag of the Northern States, the brave old Stars and 
Stripes. In a sense he was not unlike the famous 
Morgan, but then Morgan was a gentleman compared 
to Copperhead. 

This chief was a villain, though it must be confessed 
that he was a handsome villain, and he seemed to know 
it, for he was dressed to kill, in more ways than one. 
He even assumed a certain gallantry of bearing towards 
the fair sex, but his cruelties both to women and 
children were well known, whatever he might pretend 
or assume. 

It was late before everything was ready to give 
Copperhead and his band a warm reception, and yet 
no one seemed inclined to go to sleep. 

John M'Donald — honest John, as neighbouring 
planters called him — lived in a house by himself on 
the borders of the wood. But to-night he was brought 
into the fort and placed in command of a detachment 
of the freed slaves. 

All the rifles and revolvers that could be mustered 
did not exceed five-and-twenty of each. However, 
the other negroes were well-armed with pikes, and 
clubs, and bowie-knives. 


That night wore slowly away, and the sun rose over 
the woods and hills, giving a sheen like silver to the 
broad bosom of the distant lake, and shimmering 
brightly on the river, whereon a reach or bend showed 
through the greenery of the Helds at the bottom of 
the vale. 

All night long darkie outposts had walked their 
rounds on the verge of the plantation, to make sure 
no spy was sent on in advance, and to give immediate 
alarm if Copperhead and his men appeared. 

Major Bloodworth permitted his negroes to go about 
their usual avocations next day to prevent suspicion 
of his preparedness. But they were ready to assemble 
at the mansion immediately if summoned by whistle. 

"Then came still evening on." 

The moon rose round and red just as the sun had 
gone down. By and by her radiance dimmed that of 
every star save one, and clad the sylvan scenery with 
a d)'eamy silvery haze that witched one's senses as one 
gazed over the landscape. 

Osmond and Harry, with Cousin Tom and the young 
folks, lingered long in the verandah after dinner. 
There were the voices of the night-birds to be heard 
occasionally in forest and bush, and sweet they were. 
But sweeter far were the notes of Katie's guitar with 
the weird tremolo of Cousin Tom's violin. 

Yet soon indeed was all this changed. 

Lucy had just finished a song of the war, and all 


were chatting pleasantly, when suddenly Wolf started 
from his place at Osmond's feet and rushed down the 
garden. He returned barking fiercely, as if to give an 
alarm, every hair on his back straight on end and his 
eyes gleaming like fire. 

Almost immediately after, the two forest sentries 
rushed breathlessly in. 

"Dey come, dey come!" cried one. "Copperhead 
he come hisself and de Stars and Stripes — " 

The three cousins waited to hear no more, and 
shortly after every man was at his post and windows 
and doors securely shuttered and barricaded. 

From loopholes in the wooden tower Harry could 
now see the enemy approaching. Yes, they carried 
the Stars and Stripes, a silken flag that fluttered out on 
the light breeze as they came marching on in some- 
thing like military step. 

And there was Copperhead's tall form, the broad 
hat, the broad belt, the handsome face, the "swagger 
gait ". 

He halted his men a little way ofi" and loudly sum- 
moned the place to suiTender. 

He was none too polite either. 

" It's all up, you rebel dogs," he cried, " and we've 
corne for your things. You shall have your clothes if 
you're quiet and good, all else we confiscate in the name 
of the United States and the Stars and Stripes. Open 
gates and doors or we shall hop over the bank. 
Quick's the word; sharp's the action." 


" Stand back!" shouted the stentorian voice of John 
M'Donald. " Draw off, you hulking scoundrel, or I'll 
drop you where you stand." 

The robber chief raised his arm. 

Tick — tick — tick. It was the sharp sound of a tiny 
revolver, but two bullets rent honest John's jacket 
and grazed his skin, so well was it aimed. 

John returned the fire quickly enough, and Copper- 
head threw up his arms and fell to the ground. 

Dead? No, not even scratched. It was but a ruse 
to save his skin. 

"Fire!" cried M'Donald. 

Next moment a well-aimed volley tore through the 
ranks of the enemy who were now rushing to the 
earth- works, fully fifty strong. 

That volley was well aimed, and thinned them a 
little. Yet they came on with shout and yell. 

A rattling fire from revolvers now dropped the 
fellows right and left. 

They began to waver. 

But, sword in hand, Copperhead himself was now at 
their head. Though bullets rang and pinged around him, 
not one touched him. The robbers leap now upon the 
earthwork. Copperhead is the first. Next moment 
great Wolf has pinned him by the neck and hauled 
him inside. He for one is a prisoner. 

But among a band of daring raiders like this, the 
loss of even the chief afiects a fight but little. 

All along the ramparts the battle now rages, fierce 


and grim. The negroes, with honest John and Cousin 
Tom at their head, fight desperately, and Harry and 
one-handed Osmond plant a shot wherever they can 
do so with safety to their own men. 

After a terrible struggle that litters the earthwork 
with dead and wounded, both black men and white, 
the raiders are beaten off. 

Not routed, though! 

They take shelter in every bush and begin a desul- 
tory fire upon the house windows, and at the loopholes 
of the bastions. This they seem soon to tire of, and 
it is speedily evident that they are making preparations 
for another charge! The firing now ceases for a time 
on both sides. 

Among the little garrison no one doubts that the 
next charge must be a fearful one, and Major Blood- 
worth trembles as he thinks of the ladies and chil- 
dren waiting in fear and suspense for the result of this 
unequal contest. 

A whole hour passed away! From the loopholes 9 
portion of the band had been seen to draw ofif towards 
the forest, and some time afterwards they had returned 
with withered brushwood. It was evident now that 
their fiendish intention was to set fire to the buildings 
in the rear of the mansion, while the main attack would 
be made in front or on the flanks. 

Another hour went by, and the pile of brushwood 
in the rear grew higher and higher. The attack could 
not be long delayed now. Copperhead himself, whom 

(M132) Y 


brave Wolf had so cleverly captured, was securely 
roped and thrust unceremoniously into a cellar. 

Osmond was returning from the rear of the mansion 
all alone, and was just under the gable balcony when 
he heard his name called. The moon shone very 
brightly, but this portion of the balcony was in shadow. 

Yet well did Osmond know that voice. It was 

And there she was herself. He could have touched 
her hand had she held it down. 

Somehow the events of that evening long ago on 
board the Mosquito, when he and she played the bal- 
cony scene from Romeo and Juliet, came into his mind 
now. So vividly that he could not help — incongruous 
as the question was — saying: 

" Lucy, why are you here ? Is it to play Juliet to 
my Romeo again?" 

" 0, dear Osmond," she half whispered, " I am so 
glad to see you. May I not come down and help to 
fight? I can fire a gun well; Father taught me, but 
I tremble with fear lest you should be killed." 

"No, no, no, dearest!" — the word came out in spite 
of him — " we are going to make a grand sortie from 
the rear, and we will carry everything before uSc We 
shall return victorious." 

" Still, still, I tremble," she said. " 0, let me come 
down to fight by your side! Nay, but I must and 
shall come." 

" Lucy, I command you to retire inside." 


" One question, Osmond. I feel sure I shall never 
see you alive again. The question may seem a bold 
one, but I am not like English maidens. That letter 
you wrote from your prison cell; was — was there 
any truth in it?" 

Osmond saw it all now. This innocent girl — but 
little else then, and a child even yet in years, though 
all so frank and winning — could love even a one-armed 
soldier like him! How blind he had been, and how cruel ! 

This was a balcony scene from real life, and needed 
not even the cunning and genius of Shakespeare to 
make it natural. 

" Oh, Osmond," she cried in alarm at last, "I can see 
more armed men coming up from the forest!" 

Almost at the same moment a yell from the front 
told him that the raiders were once more advancing 
to the charge. So he waved his hand in fond adieu, 
disappeared, and was soon standing by, revolver in 
hand, ready to repel boarders. 

Old Uncle Neile with a dozen trusty darkies had 
rushed out, with pikes in their hands, from a postern 
in the rear, and their unexpected charge prevented a 
fire from being lit that soon indeed would have laid 
the beautiful mansion-house of Brooklands in ashes. 
Alas! for poor Uncle Neile though! He was the first 
to fall, with a bullet through his chest. 

And in front this fight on the earthworks was fiercer 
far than the last. For a time there were yells of 
triumph, screams of defiance, the rattle of revolvers, 


the clash of swords, and every now and then a dull 
sickening thud and groan that told o£ death dealt at 
close quarters. 

But now, behold, the blacks are in panic. Well and 
pluckily have they fought, but against such fearful 
odds how can they stand? 

They are borne backwards towards the verandah. 
A charge is made by the raiders on the porch. This 
taken, the door would be beaten in and the house with 
all inside would then be at their mercy. But boldly 
stand our own white heroes there, and not one inch 
will they budge. 

The raiders seem to have fallen short of ammunition, 
for they rush onwards with bowie-knives gleaming in 
the moonlight and stern determined faces. 

Ring, ring, ring. It is the sound of a tiny revolver 
close by Osmond's ear, a little white hand and arm 
are uplifted close to his shoulder. It is his own little 
American lass Lucy, and two of the robbers fall be- 
neath her fire. 

The rest never advanced. Had they done so their 
success would have been certain. But just then a 
triumphant yell ascends into the air, for a band of new 
combatants are leaping over the earthworks. 

The battle is soon over now, and all the raiders that 
have not fallen are seeking safety in flight. Then all 
is still for just a moment, except for the uneasy moan- 
ing of the wounded and faint cries for water. 

For just one moment only though, and the next 


Kenneth Reid, for he is the foremost of the rescuers, 
is shaking hands all round. 

" I was hurrying to Brooklands," he said, " when I 
fell in with twenty Northerners going the same way, 
and, thank God, we've got here in time." 

" North or South," said the Federal officer, advancing 
and lifting his hat. " It's all the same now. The last 
battle has been fought, Richmond has fallen, and the 
Union restored. 

"But don't you remember me?" he continued, turn- 
ing his face up to the moonlight that Harry and 
Osmond might see it. 

" Why, I declare," cried Harry, holding out both 
hands, " it is Captain Spott!" 

" Yes, sir, Captain Spott with two t's, all alive and 

Big John M'Donald and Cousin Tom were both 
slightly wounded, but they would hardly admit it. 
Lucy herself had received a flesh wound on the shoulder, 
and gloried in it. 

And no less than ten poor niggers lay dead around 
the earthworks, and many more were wounded. They 
had died fighting " for dear massa, and de missies, and 
de ole plantation home ". 

Everything that could be thought of to ameliorate 
the sufferings of Uncle Neile was done. He was borne 
tenderly in and placed near the fire, and after a time 
he revived sufficiently to open his eyes and look around 


" We am sabed?" he asked, holding out his hand to 
Harry, who was kneeling by his side. 

" All saved." 

"And de robbers gone?" 

" All gone, dear Uncle." 

" Good-bye, good-bye, Mammy ! Bress de Lord f oh 
all His goodness; bress de Giver ob ebery good thing!" 

He just wore away after this, with blessings on his 
lips. Seemed to sleep away, and there was hardly a 
dry eye in the room when he gave his last long-drawn 

The old plantation is as beautiful to-day as it was 
then, and just on the borders of the forest and near to 
a tall pine tree (whose dark nodding plumes are 
covered in early spring with the lavender blooms of 
the wandering wistaria) is a grave. 

Against the tree is a cross bearing the simple in- 
scription — 







THE summer of 1865 was in its prime and glory 
when a British steamer left New York home- 
ward bound for Liverpool. 

There was a gayer crowd than usual on the good 
ship, for many a war-worn soldier was taking the 
voyage to Europe to seek for the health he had lost 
in the long and terrible struggle 'twixt North and 

With few of these have we anything to do. But 
one group on the quarter-deck attracts our attention 
as the vessel passes Sandy Hook and the Atlantic 
opens dark and wide before her. It is not a very 
large one — only four ladies and three gentlemen — and 
we know them all well by this time. Here we have 
Mrs. Brewer, Lucy, Katie, and Mrs. Bloodworth. 

The gentlemen are our heroes Osmond, Kenneth, 
and Harry. Ah! but tliere is one other gentleman 
that I think the reader will agree with me deserves 
at least to be mentioned. It is Wolf. He is walking 
up and down the deck, and is being admired by 
everybody, despite the fact that Katie has tied 
around his neck a ribbon of blue with stare on it. 
Katie says that, go where she will, never in life will 
she forget the bonnie blue flag under which her 


brother fell. And Lucy is quite of the same way of 

Kenneth Reid had brought Osmond news straight 
from Mirtields, where he had spent many days before 
coming out to the States. It was news of a very 
disheartening kind, although Kenn had broken it to 
him as gently as he could. 

Still, more than once during this voyage homewards, 
when Kenn and he were alone with Harry in the cabin 
occupied by the three of them, Osmond would refer to it. 

" Why," he said one evening, " I can hardly believe, 
Kenn, lad, that it is four long years since you and I 
crossed the ocean together. Ran away from home, in 
fact, to search for romance and adventure." 

" Well," laughed Kenn, " haven't we had enough of 

"Almost too much," said Osmond, laughing in turn, 
as he held up the stump of his left arm. 

" Oh, that little bit ! " cried Harry. " Why, you left 
that with us in Ole Virginny for a keepsake." 

" I wonder," continued Osmond, " what my mother 
will think of her one-armed boy?" 

" She would have liked far better, I suppose, to see 
you all complete; but, never mind, lad, better want a 
hand than want a head." 

"And you say, Kenn, that Mother and Eva are 
looking well in spite of our sad losses?" 

" Beautiful both." 


"And the old man, my dear father?" 

"Well, he mopes a little sometimes, to be sure; but 
your big brother Dick is always with him, and cheers 
him up. Dick isn't going to let down his heart, I can 
assure you. Eva told me that there was much distress 
at first among the operatives who depended upon the 
great mill for their daily bread, and not a little dis- 
content also; that, in fact, when mills stopped all over 
the valley owing to the war, the discontent amounted 
in some cases almost to riot. This annoyed Dick and 
his father too. But it did not prevent them from being 
as kind as kind could be to the poor fellows and their 

"Ah! Father himself is comparatively poor now." 

" Well, of course, Osmond, he cannot be so wealthy 
as before the glen became all silent. But dear Eva 
and her mother went to the village every day, and I 
know for certain that they never went to preach with- 
out doing a little practice as well, and many a hungry 
mouth their charity helped to fill, and many a tearful 
eye, I'm certain, did Eva dry with her helpful words 
and her beaming, hopeful face." 

"But Father will be broken-hearted, Kenn?" 

" Yes, certainly your father takes on a bit. Only a 
day or two before I left I was admiring the beauty of 
your glen and the greenery of the grand old trees. 

"'Ah!' he said, with a sigh, 'they are far, far too 
green. I remember — and it is but a short time ago — 
when the trees were all a- blur with smoke, and the 


hum of the mills was everywhere. Heigho! those 
days are gone!' 

" ' But they'll come again, Mr. Lloyd/ I said. 

"'Never!' he answered sadly. 'Never, in my time, 
dear boy.'" 

"Poor Father! Poor Dick! Would that I could 
help them!" 

" Come, come, Os, don't you let down your heart. 
You don't know what good fortune may be in store 
for you. 

" Anyhow, Os," he continued, " Lucy — " 

"Hush, hush!" said Osmond, and so the conversa- 
tion dropped. 

A mild-faced gentlemanly man boarded the steamer 
immediately on her arrival at Liverpool, and asked for 
Osmond Lloyd. Osmond was pointed out to him. 

"I'm a solicitor," he said, shaking hands with our 

Osmond grew deadly pale. 

"Oh, sir!" he cried, "tell me at once, is my father 

"Your father dead! Not that I know of, young 
friend," replied Mr. Jones, smiling. " What put that 
in your head? I've good news for you, and I want 
you to come to my office — there is my card — as soon 
as you are clear of the Customs." 

" That will I, gladly, and I suppose I can bring my 
friends here with me." 


" Most certainly. One, I think, is concerned in what 
I shall have to read to you. Good morning!" 

"Hurrah!" cried Kenneth as soon as he was gone. 
"I shouldn't wonder if you and I had come into a 
small legacy. That is Captain Brewer's solicitor." 

All three friends went to the solicitor's office that 
very afternoon, and without much preliminary talking 
Mr. Jones proceeded to read to them Captain Brewer's 
last will and testament. 

A document of this kind has but little interest for 
the general reader. Indeed wills are excessively dry 
reading — unless one happens to expect something. 

And Osmond and Kenneth too could not help won- 
dering, as they walked along the street, what they 
could possibly have to do with this will of dear old 
Captain Brewer. 

" I suppose," said Os, " he has left you a gold watch 
for defending the old Mosquito so well, and me a gold 
ring because I found out about the mutiny." 

" Well, we'll soon see," replied Kenneth, " but I'm a 
bit more hopeful than you." 

The solicitor read the Captain's will. After bequeath- 
ing a handsome annuity to Mrs. Brewer, his wife, and 
another to Lucy, to commence upon her wedding-day, 
to our heroes' astonishment they found their names 
mentioned — Osmond's first, for a legacy of £20,000, 
and Kenneth's next for the sum of £9000! 

The one looked at the other for a few moments. 


with parted lips, but utterly speechless, till the grave- 
looking solicitor broke the spell by getting up and 
shaking hands with them, 

I think Osmond and Kenneth hardly felt the pave- 
ment under their feet, as they walked back to their 
hotel that day. 

They dined together — the whole four, which is 
counting Wolf, you know — that evening most sump- 
tuously, just as young fellows would on so auspicious 
an occasion, and the solicitor was their guest. 

" Now," said Osmond to Kenneth and Harry, a short 
time before they retired, "I have a favour to ask you." 

" Out with it, lad," said Harry. 

" Heave round," cried Kenneth. 

"It is this: you must not breathe a word of all this 
— our good luck, I mean — to Father or to anybody till 
I give you leave." 

" Agreed," said his friends, both in one voice. 

They all travelled next day north to Yorkshire. 

Dick and Eva were there at the station to meet and 
drive them through the glen to Mirfields. But I 
have no intention of describing either the meeting at 
the station, or that at the old mansion. Some portions 
of a story are best left out. But I must say that 
Osmond's father and mother were just about as 
happy that night as they had been for twenty long 

And honest Wolf seemed thoroughly delighted to get 


back to the old place, and knew and even kissed Eva's 
old tom-cat. 

Next day, Eva told Osmond that the 10th of August 
— about two months thence — would be father's and 
mother's silver-wedding day. 

" Will it indeed?" said Os. 

He seemed to take wonderful interest in this fact, 
but Eva could not tell why. 

A general tour through the Scottish Highlands was 
arranged for, a week after the arrival of the party. 

Just the same travellers started on this beautiful 
journey as came across the Atlantic, but with two more 
in addition, namely Mr. and Mrs. Lloyd. Kenneth and 
Osmond took the whole management of the tour, 
and made it just as pleasant as pleasant could be for 
all hands. 

Only Dick was left at home. Dick, you see, was in 
Osmond's secret. 

Well, there was hardly a place worth seeing that 
the party did not visit, and really Mr. Lloyd was so 
pleased and delighted with everything that he quite 
forgot all his care, the silent valley of Mirfields, the 
hushed mills, the over-green trees and the clear streams, 
to which it was even said the fish had returned. 

More than six weeks had passed away. And now 
the travellers were back once more in 

"Edina, Scotia's dai-liiig seat!" 
and preparing for home; everyone as brown as a 


huckleberry, with the suu, and as hard as the Highland 

" We'll just be back m time, my dear," said Mrs. 
Lloyd, "for our silver-wedding. 

They were sitting by the fire in their private apart- 
ments, as she spoke. 

"How these twenty -five years have fled!" said Mr. 
Lloyd, laying a kindly hand in her lap. " But time 
hasn't altered our hearts, has it, love?" 

Mrs. Lloyd did not reply. 

She just clasped the hand she held a little more 
tightly, but the pressure spoke volumes. 

As the party alighted once more on the platform of 
the station, and found two carriages ready to whirl 
them off" up the glen to Mirfields, Mr. Lloyd thought 
he noticed an unusual bustle about. 

Soon they were in the village. 

There were flags at every window, and strips of 
them across the street. 

Whatever could it mean? 

Women and children, too, rushed out to cheer the 
carriages as they rattled past. 

Then, near Mr. Lloyd's own old mill, the horses, at 
a hint from Osmond, were drawn up. Here a huge 
arch of evergreens spanned the road, and on it, written 
in roses red and white, were the words: 
Welcome Ho7)ie. Joy to your Silver- Wedding Day ! 

Mr. Lloyd could hardly speak for astonishment. 


"Why," he cried at last, "look, wife, look, the old 
mill is going again! Look at the smoke! Listen to 
the rattle of the machinery! Why, wonders will 
never cease!" 

Before he could say another word, a huge crowd 
of kindly-looking workmen surrounded the carriage, 
cheering and waving their caps. 

Then out came the horses, and right up to the very 
verandah and porch of Mirfields the vehicles were 
drawn. Such a welcome home Mr. Lloyd had never 
known before! 

But after they liad got inside, the meaning of this 
change was explained, and he was now told of 
Osmond's legacy. 

" Osmond, you young rascal ! " said his father, grasp- 
ing him lovingly by the hand, "and it is you who 
have done all this, and gladdened the heart of your 
old father. May God bless you, boy! May God bless 

Osmond Lloyd never went to the wars again. 
Things took a prosperous turn in the Vale of Mirfield, 
and soon there were more mills going than that of the 
Lloyds. The woods were once again all a-blur with 
smoke, and once more the stream that meandered 
through the glen was far too dark for fishes. But it 
was just as Mr. Lloyd liked to see it. It meant business. 

Well, nothing could ever make Kenneth other than 
he was, a sailor and a rover. In the course of a year 


or two he had a ship of his own. Then he married 
Katie Bloodworfch. The happy pair sailed to Madeira 
on their marriage tour, and with them went — can you 
guess? — Osmond and Lucy, for they were married on 
the very same day. 

The ship was Kenneth's own, as I have said, and 
you will not be surprised to learn that there was one 
other passenger, who seemed just as happy as anyone 
else on board — and that was honest Wolf, the mastiff. 


ir^^Xcj^.fe^jyL^ -^Mat&ij.^j &LM'-jj.i.^ i &^A^^^^ 



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Dick Holland's father is supposed to be one of the English captives in 
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last he discovers him in the great stronghold of Savandroog. The hazard- 
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enemy's country are at length accomplished, and the young fellow's 
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it was besieged by all the might of the Turks. Altogether a fine chivah-ous 
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[Ill A 



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ThrOUg-h the Sikh War: a Tale of tbe Conquest of the 
Punjaub. By G. A. Henty. With 12 page Illustrations by H.\L 
Hurst, and a Map. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, Qtf. 

"The picture of the Punjaid) dining its last few years of indcpciideiKC. the 
description of the battles on tlie .Sutlej, and tlie portraiture generally of native 
character, seem admirably true. . . . On the wlnile, we have never read a more 
vivid and faithful narrative of military adventure in India." — The Academij. 

With Lee in Virginia: A story of the American Civil 

War. By G. A. Henty. With 10 p;vge Illustrations by Gordon 

Browne, and 6 Maps. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6.s. 

" The story is a capital one and full of variety, and presents us with many 
picturesque scenes of Southern life. Young Wiiigfield, who is conscientious, 
spirited, and ' hard as nails', would have been a man after the very heart of 
Stonewall Jackson." — Times. 

With Wolfe in Canada: Or, Tlie Winning of a Continent. 

By G. A. Henty. With 12 page Illu.strations by Gordon Browne. 

Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s. 

"A model of what a boys' story-book should be. Mr. Henty has a great power 
of infusing into the dead facts of history new life, and as no pains arc spared by 
him to ensure accmacy in historic details, his books supply useful aids to study 
as well as amusement." — School Guardian. 

The Dash for Khartoum: a Tale of the Nile Expedition. 

By G. A. Henty. With 10 page Illustrations by J. SchoNBERG and 

J. Nash, and 4 Plans. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s. 

" It is literally true that the narrative never flags a moment ; for the incidents 
which fall to be recorded after the dash for Khartoum has been made aud failed 
are quite as interesting as those which precede it." — Academy. 



'Surely Mr. Heuty sliouUl understaiul boys' tastes better than any man living.' 

—The Times. 

Reduced Illustration from " Wvlf the Snxtm' 

Wulf the Saxon: a story of the Norman Conquest. By 
G. A. Henty. With 12 page Ilhistrations by Ealph Peacock. 
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s. 
" The story shows Mr. Henty at his hest."— Daily Chronicle. 
" Wulf the Saxon is second to none of Mr. Henty's historical tales, and ^e may 
safely say that a boy may leani from it more genuine history than he -will fnnn 
many a tedious tome. The points of the Saxon character are hit off very happily, 
and the life of the period is ably reconstructed." — The Spectator. 

By Pike and Dyke: a Tnle of the Rise of the Dutch Re- 
public. By Gr. A. Henty. With 10 page Illustrations by Maynakd 
Beown, and 4 Maps. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s. 

" The mission of Xed to deliver letters from William the Silent to his adherents 
at Brussels, the fiffht of the Good Venture with the Spnnisli man-of-war, the battle 
on the ice at Amsterdam, the siecre of Haarlem, are all told with a vividness and 
skill which are worthy of Mr. Henty at his best." — Academy. 



" AiiKiiig writers of stories of adventure for boys IMr. Heiity stands in tlie very 
first raiilv.' — Academy. 

The Lion of St. Mark: A Tale of Venice iu tlie Fourteenth 

Century. By (i. A. Henty. With 10 page Ilhistrations by Gordon 

Browne. Ci-o\vn 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s. 

" Every boy should lead The Lion of St. Mark. Mr. Henty has never produced 
any story more delightful, more wholesome, or more vivacious. From first to 
last it will be read with keen enjoyment."— J'/te Satunlay licview. 

By Eng-land'S Aid: The Freeing of the Netherlands (1585- 

1604). By G. A. Henty. With 10 page Illustrations by Alfred 

Pe.\rse, and 4 Maps. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s. 

"The story is told with great animation, and the historical material is most 
effectively combined with a most excellent iplot."— Saturday lieview. 

Under Drake's Flag": a Tale of the Spanish Main. By 
G. A. Henty. Illustrated by 12 page Pictures by GounoN Browne. 
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s. 

"There is not a dull chapter, nor, indeed, a dull page in the book; but the 
author has so carefully worked up his suliject that the exciting deeds of his 
heroes are never incongruous or absurd."— Ofe't?;' we, 

Bonnie Prince Charlie: A Tale of Fontenoy and Culloden. 
By G. A. Henty. With 12 page Illustrations by Gordon Browne. 
Crown Svo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s. 

"Ronald, the hero, is very like tlie hero of Quentin Durward. The lad's 
journey across France with his faithful attendant Alalcolm, and his hairbreadth 
escapes from the machinations of his father's enemies make up as good a 
narrative of the kind as we have ever read. For freshness of treatment and 
variety of incident, Mr. Henty has here surpassed himself."— Spectator. 

" A historical romance of the best quality. Mr. Henty has writtiai many more 
sensational stories, but never a more artistic one." — Academy. 

For the Temple: A Tale of tlie Fail of Jerusalem. By 
G. A. Henty. With 10 page Illustrations by S. J. Solomon, and 
a Coloured Map. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s. 

" Mr. Henty's graphic prose pictures of the hopeless Jewish resistance to Roman 
sway ailds another leaf to his record of the famous wars of the world. The book 
is one of Mr. Henty's cleverest efforts." — Graphic. 

True to the Old Flag": A Tale of the Anieriean War of 

Independence. By G. A. Henty. With 12 page Illustrations by 

Gordon Browne. Crown Svo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s. 

" Does justice to the pluck and determination of the British soldiers. The son 
of an American loyalist, who remains true to our flag, falls among the hostile red- 
skins in that very Huron country which has been einleared to lis by the exploits 
of Hawkeye and Chingachgook." — The Times. 



'Ml-. Ileuty is the king of story-tellers for boys."— ■<?»'')/•(; and Troivi 

Reduced llluatrat ion from "St. Bartholomew's Eve' 

St. Bartholomew's Eve: a Tale of the Huguenot Wars. 

B3' G-. A. Henty. With 12 page Illustrations by H. J. Draper, 

and a Map. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, Qs. 

"A really noble story, which adult readers will find to the full as satisfying as 
the boys. Lucky boys! to have such a caterer as Mr. G. A. Heuty." — Black and 

With Clive in India: Or, The Begimiings of ail Empire. 

By G-. A. Henty. With 12 page Illustrations by Gordon Browne. 

Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s. 

"Among writers of stories of adventure for boys Mr. Henty stands in the very 
first rank. Those who know sometliing about India will be the most ready to 
thank Mr. Henty for giving them this instructive volume to place in the hands 
of their children."— .^cademj/. 



" Mr. Henty is one of our most successful writers of historical tales."— Scotsman. 

The Lion of the North : A Tale of Gustaviis Adolphus and 

tlie Wars of Religion. By G. A. Henty. With 12 page Pictures 

by J. ScHoNBERG. Crowii 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s. 

"A praiseworthy attempt to interest Britisli youth in the great ileeiis of the 
Scotch Brigade in the wars of Gustavus Adolphus. Mackay, Hephurn, and Munro 
live again in Mr. Henty's pages, as those deserve to live whoSK disciplined l)ands 
formed really the germ of tlie modern Britisli army." — Athenceiuii. 

The Young" Carthaginian: a story of the Times of 

Hannibal. By G. A. Henty. With 12 page Illustrations by C. J; 

Staniland, B.I. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s. 

"The effect of an interesting story, well constructed and vividly told, is en- 
hanced by the picturesque (juatity of the scenic background. From first to last 
nothing stays the interest of the narrative. It bears us along as on a stream 
whose current varies in direction, but never loses its force." — Saturday Jievietii 

Redskin and Cow-boy : a Tale of the We.stein Plains. By 

G. A. Henty. With 12 page Illustrations by Alfred Pearse. 

Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s. 

"It has a good plot; it abounds in action; the scenes are equally spirited and 
realistic, and we can only say we have reac\ it with much pleasure from first to 
last. The pictures of life on a cattle ranche are most graphically painted, as are 
the manners of the reckless but jovial cow-boys." — Times. 

In Freedom's Cause : A story of Wallace and Bruce. By 

G. A. Henty. With 12 page Illustrations by Gordon Browne. 
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s. 

"His tale of the days of Wallace and Bruce is full of stirring action, and will 
commend itself to hoys."— Athenceum. 

By Right of Conquest : Or, With Cortez in Mexico. By 

G. A. Henty. With 10 page Illustrations by W. S. Stagey', and 

2 Maps. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s. 

"By Right of Conquest is the nearest approach to a perfectly successful histori- 
cal tale that Mr. Henty has yet published."— .4cat<e»/(;(/. 

In Greek Waters: a story of the Grecian War of Inde- 
pendence (1821-1827). By G. A. Henty. With 12 page Illus- 
trations by W. S. Stagey, and a Map. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 
olivine edges, 6s. 

"There are adventures of all kinds for the hero and his friends, whose pluck 
and ingenuity In extricatinir themselves from awkward fixes are always eipial to 
the occasion. It is an excellent story, and if the proportion of liistory is smaller 
than usual, the whole result leaves nothing to be deaired."— Journal of Education. 



" Xo more interesting boys' books are written than Mr. Henty's stories."— 

Daily Chronicle. 

ThrOUg"h the Fray: A Story of the Luddite Riots. By 
G. A. Henty. With 12 page Illustrations by H. M. Paget. Crown 

8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s. 

" J[r. Henty inspires a love and admiration for straightforwanlness, truth, and 
c lunige. This is one of the best of the many good books Jlr. Henty has produced, 
and deserves to be chissed with his Facing Death." Standard. 

Captain Bayley'S Heir: A Tale of the Gold Fields of Cali- 
fornia. By G. A. Hextv. With 12 page Illustrations by H. M. 
Paget. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, Gs. 

"A Westminster boy who makes his way in the world by hard work, ^od 
temper, and unfailing courage. The descriptions given of life are just what a 
healthy intelligent lad should delight in." — St. James's Gazette. 

ThPOUg"}! Russian Snows : A story of Napoleon's Retreat 
from Moscow. By G. A. Henty. With 8 Illustrations by W. H. 
OvEREND, and a Map. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s. 

The hero of this story, Julian Wj'att, is a careless, good-natured youth, 
who becomes, quite innocently, mixed up with smugglers — when smuggling 
was common in the south coast of England. The smugglers carry him to 
France, and hand him over as a prisoner to the French ; but he subse- 
quently regains his freedom bj' joining Napoleon'.s army in the campaign 
against Russia. The young Englishman takes part in the great battles of 
Smolensk and Borodino, arriving at Moscow with the victorious Emperor. 
Then, when the teri'ible retreat begins, Julian finds himself in the rear- 
guard of the French army, fighting desperately, league by league, against 
famine, snow-storms, wolves, and Russians. Ultimately he escapes, after 
rescuing the daughter of a Russian Count; makes his way to St. Petersburg; 
and then r'eturns to England. A story this with an excellent plot, exciting 
adventures, and splendid historical interest. 

In the Heart of the Rockies: a story of Adventure in 
Colorado. By G. A. Henty. With 8 page Illustrations by G. C. 
HiNDLEY. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s. 

" Few Christmas books will be more to the taste of the ingenuous boy than In 
the Heart of the liockies." — Athenreum. 
" Mr. Henty is seen here at his best as an artist in lightning fiction." — Academy. 

One of the 28th : a Tale of Waterloo. By G. A. Hentt. 

With 8 page Illustrations by W. H. Overend, and 2 Maps. Crown 

8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s. 

"Written with Homeric vigour and heroic inspiration. It is graphic, pictur- 
esque, and dramatically effective . . . shows ns ifr. Henty at his best and 
brishtest. The adventures will hold a boy of a winter's night enthralled as he 
rushes through them with breathless interest 'from cover to cover'." — Observer. 



"Ask for Henty, and see that you get liini." — Punch. 

The Cat of BubasteS: a story of Ancient Egypt. By 

(t. a. Henty. With 8 page Illustrations by J. R. Weguelin. 

Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5.s. 

•"I'he story, from the critical moment of tlie killing of the sacred cat to the 
perilous exodus into Asia with which it closes, is very skilfully constructed and 
fnji of exciting adventures. It is admirably illustrated." — Saturday Review. 

Maori and Settler: a story of the New Zealand War. By 
G. A. Henty. With 8 page Illustrations by Alfred, and 
a Map. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s. 

"It is a book which all young people, but especially boys, will read with 
avidity." — Athenaeum. 

" A Hrst-rate book for boys, brimful of adventure, of humorous and interesting 
conversation, and of vivid pictures of colonial \\ie." Schoolmaster. 

St. Georg-e for England: a Tale of Cressy and Poitier.s. 

By G. A. Henty. With 8 full-page Illustrations by Gordon 

Browne. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s. 

" A story of very great interest for boys. In his own forcible style the author 
has endeavoured to show that determination and enthusiasm can accomplish mar- 
vellous results; and that courage is generally accompanied by magnanimity and 
S&nt\6ne%%."— Pall Mall Gazette. 

The Bravest of the Brave: With Peterborough in Spain. 

By G. A. Henty. With 8 full-page Pictures by H. M. Paget. 

Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s. 

"Mr. Henty never loses sight of the moral purpose of his work — to enforce the 
doctrine of courage and truth, mercy and lovingkindness, as indispensable to the 
making of an English gentleman. British lads will read The Rravest of the 
Brave with pleasure and profit; of that we are quite sme." —Daily TelcyrajJh. 

For Name and Fame: Or, Through Afghan Passes. By 

G. A. Henty. Witli 8 full-page Illustrations by Gordon Browne. 

Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s. 

"Not only a rousing story, replete with all the varied forms of excitement of a 
campaign, but, what is still more useful, an account of a territory and its inhabi- 
tants which must for a long time possess a supreme interest for Englishmen, as 
being the key to our Indian Empire. "—GZrt*(/'i«i Herald 

A Jacobite Exile : Being the Adventures of a Young English- 
man in the Service of Charles XII. of Sweden. By G. A. Henty. 
With 8 page Illustrations by Paul Hardy, and a Map. Crown 
8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s. 

" Incident succeeds incident, and adventure is i)iled upon adventure, and at the 
end the reader, be he boy or man. will have experienced breathless enjoyment 
in a romantic story that must have taught liim much at its close." — Army and 
Navy Gazette. 



" Mr. Heiitj's books are always alive with luoviiig incident." — Review of Reviews. 

Condemned as a Nihilist: a story of Escape from Siberia. 

By G. A. Hkntv. With 8 page Illustrations by Walter Paget. 

Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s. 

"The best of this year's Henty. His narrative is more interesting than many 
of the tales with whicli the public is familiar, of escape from Siljeria. Despite 
their superior claim to authenticity these tales are without doubt no less fic- 
titious than Mr. Henty's, and he beats them hollow in the matter of sensations." 
— National Observer. 

Orang'e and Green: a Tale of the Boyne and Limerick. 
By G. A. Henty. With 8 full -page Illustrations by Gordon 
Browne. Crown Svo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s. 
"The narrative is free from the vice of prejudice, and ripples with life as 

vivacious as if what is being described were really passin.g before the eye. . . . 

Should be in the hands of every young student of Irish history. '—/>e//as« Neivg. 

Held Fast for Eng-land: A Tale of the Siege of Gibraltar. 

By G. A. Henty. With 8 page Illustrations by Gordon Browne. 

Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s. 
"Among them we would place first in interest and wholesome educational 
value the story of the siege of Gibraltar. . . . There is no cessation of exciting 
incident throngliout the stuvy ." —Athenceum 

In the Reig"n of Terror: The Adventures of a Westminster 

Boy. By G. A. Henty. With 8 full -page Illustrations by J. 

ScHoNBERft. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s. 

"Harry Sandwith, the Westminster boy, may fairly be said to beat Mr. Henty's 
record. His ailventures will delight boys by the audacity and peril they depict. 
The story is one of ilr. Henty's hest."—Satwrday Review. 

By Sheer Pluck: A Tale of the Ashauti War. By G. A. 

Henty. With 8 full-page Pictures by Gordon Browne. Crown 
Svo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s. 
"Morally, the book is everything that could be desired, setting before the boys 
a bright and bracing ideal of the English gentleman." — Christian Leader. 

The Dragon and the Raven: Or, The Days of King 

Alfred. By G. A. Henty. With 8 page Illustrations by C. J. 

Staniland, R.I. Crown Svo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s. 

"A story that may justly be styled remarkable. Boys, in reading it, will be 
surprised to find how Alfred persevered, through years of bloodshed and times 
of peace, to rescue his people from the thraldom of the Danes. We hope the 
book will soon be widely known in all our schools." — Schoolmaster. 

A Final Reckoning": a Tale of Bush Life in Australia. 

By G. A. Henty. With 8 page Illustrations by W. B. Wollen. 

Crown Svo, cloth elegant, olivine edjes, 5s. 

" All boys will read this story with eager and unflagging interest. The episodes 
are in Mr. Henty's very best vein — graphic, exciting, realistic; and, as in all Mr. 
Henty's books, the tendency is to the formation of an honourable, manly, and 
even heroic cha.Ta.cter."— Birmingham Post. 



"As publishers of books of adventure for bojs Messrs. Blackie & Sou have no 
superiors."— 67. James's Gazettf. 

Facing" Death : Or, The Hero of the Yaugliau Pit. A Tale of 

the Coal Mines. By G. A. Henty. With 8 page Pictures hy 

Gordon Browne. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s. 

"If any father, godfather, clergyman, or schoolmaster is on tlie look-ont for a 
good book to give as a present to a boy wlio is worth his salt, this is tlie book we 
woiiUl recommend." — Standard. 

A Chapter of Adventures: Or, Through the Bombard- 
ment of Alexandria. By G. A. Henty. With 6 page Illustrations 
by W. H. OvEREND. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6d. 

"Jack Robson and his two companions have their fill of excitement, and their 
chapter of adventures is so brisk and entertaining we couKl have wished it longer 
than it is." — Saturday Review. 

Two Thousand Years Ag-O: Or, The Adventures of a Roman 

Boy. By Professor A. J. Church. With 12 page Illustrations by 

Adrien Marie. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s. 

"Adventures well worth the telling. The book is extremely entertaining as 
well as useful, and there is a wonderful freshness in the Konian scenes and 
cliaracters. " — The Timeft. 

The Clever Miss Follett. By j. K. H. Denny. With 

12 page Illustrations by Gertrude D. Hammond. Crown 8vu, 

cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s. 

'■Just the book to give to girls, who will delight both in the letterpress and 
the illustrations. Miss Hammond has never done better wtov^." —Review of 


Banshee Castle. By Rosa Mulholland. With 12 page 
Illustrations by John H. Bacon. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 
olivine edges, 6s. 

"One of the most fascinating of Miss Rosa Mulholland s many fascinating 
stories. . . The charm of the tale lies in the telling of it. The three 

heroines are admirably drawn characters." — Atlienmum. 

" Is told with grace, and brightened by a knowledge of Irish folk-lore, making 
it a perfect present for a girl in her teens." — Truth. 

Giannetta : a Girl's story of Herself. By Rosa Mulholland. 

With 8 page Illustrations by Lockhart Bogle. Crown 8vo, cloth 

elegant, olivine edges, 5s. 

"Giannetta is a true heroine — warm-hearted, self-sacrificing, and, as all good 
women nowadays are, largely touched with the enthusiasm of hunumity. One 
of the most attractive gift-books of the season."— The Academy. 



At War with PontiaC: Or, The Totem of the Bear. By 

Kirk Munkoe. With 8 page Ilhistrations by J. Finnemore. 
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s. 

This is a story of old colonial days in America, when Detroit was a 
frontier foi-t, and the shores of Lake Erie were held by hostile Indians 
under Pontiac, their famous chief. The hero is Donald Hester, a young 
English officer, who goes in search of his sister Edith, she having been cap- 
tured by the redskins. Strange and terrible are his experiences ; for he is 
wounded, taken prisoner, condemned to be burned, contrives to escape, 
and is again captured. In all his adventures he finds a magic talisman in 
the Totem of the Bear, which was tattooed on his arm in his childhood by 
a friendly Indian; while in the end there is peace between Pontiac and 
the English, and Donald marries the great chief's daughter. One dares not 
skip a single page in this most enthralling tale. 

The White Conquerors of Mexico : A Tale of Toitec and 

Aztec. By Kirk Munroe. With 8 page Illustrations by W. S. 

Stacey. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s. 

"Mr. Munroe gives most vivid pictures of the religious and civil polity of the 
Aztecs, and of everyday life, as he imagines it, in the streets and market-places 
of the magnificent capital of Montezuma." — The Times. 

Hig-hwayS and Hig'h Seas: Cyiil Harley's Ad\ eutnres on 
both. By r. Frankfort Moore. With 8 page Illustrations by 
Alfred Pearse. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s. 

"This is one of the best stories Mr. Moore has written, perhaps the very best. 
The exciting adventures are sure to attract boys." — Spectator. 

" It is pleasant to come across such honest work as F. Frankfort Moore's IJiiih- 
ways and High Seas. Captain Chink is a real achievement in characterization." 
— Scots Observer. 

A Fair Claimant: Being a Story for Girls. By Frances 

Armstrong. With 8 page Illustrations by Gertrude D. Hammond. 

Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s. 

" As a gift-book for big girls it is among the best new books of the kind. The 
story is interesting and natural, from first to last." — Westminster Gazette. 

The Heiress of Courtleroy. By Anne Beale. With 8 

page Illustrations by T. C. H. Castle. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 

olivine edges, 5s. 

"We can speak highly of the .grace with which Miss Beale relates how the 
young 'Heiress of Courtleroy' had such good influence over her uncle as to win 
him from his intensely selflsh ways." — Ouardian. 



A Roug-h Shaking". By George Mac Donald. With 

12 page Illustrations by W. Parkinson. Crown Svo, cloth elegant, 

olivine edgef?, 6s. 

"One of the very best books for boys that lias been written. It is fnll of 
initerial peculiarly well adapted for the yoims. containing in a marked degree 
tlie elements of all that is necessary to make up a perfect boys' hook.'' — 
Teachers' Aid. 

At the Back of the North Wind. By Geo. Mac 

Donald. With 75 Illustrations by Arthur Hughes. Crown Svo, 

cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s. 

" The story is thoroughly original, full of fancy and pathos. . . . We stand 
with one foot in fairyland and one on common eavth."— The Times. 

Ranald Bannerman's Boyhood. By Geo. Mac Donald, 

With .36 Illustrations by Arthur Hughes. Crown Svo, cloth 

elegant, olivine edges, 5s. 

"The sympathy with boy-nature in Panald Bannermans Boyhood is perfect. 
It is a beautiful picture of childhood, teaching by its impressions and suggestions 
all noble tilings." — British Quarterbj Review. 

The Princess and the Goblin. By George Mac Donald. 

\Vith 32 Illustrations. Crown Svo, cloth extra, .3s. 6f/. 

" Little of what is written for children has the lightness of touch and jday of 
fancy which are characteristic of George Mac Donald's fairy tales. Air Arthur 
Hughes's illustrations are all that illustrations should he."—Mancheiiter Guardian.. 

The Princess and Curdie. By George Mac Donald. 

With 8 page Illustrations. Crown Svo, cloth extra, 3s. 6c?. 

" There is the finest and rarest genius in this brilliant story. Upgrown people 
would do wisely occasionally to lay aside their ntw.siiaiiurs and magazines to 
spend an hour with Curdie and the Princess." — Slic[Hrlil Independent. 


The Pirate Island: A story of the South Pacific. By 

Harry Collingwood. With 8 page Pictures by C. J. Staniland 

and J. R. Wells. Crown Svo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s. 

" A capital story of the sea ; indeed in our opinion the author is superior in some 
respects as a marine novelist to the better known Jlr. Clark Russell. "—77(c Times. 

The Log- of the "Flying- Fish": a story of Aerial and 

Submarine Adventurjs. V>y Harry Collingwood. With 6 page 

Illustrations by Gordon Browne. Crown Svo, cloth elegant, 3s. Qd. 

"The Flying Fish actually surpasses all Jules Verne's creations; with incred- 
ible speed she flies through the air, skims over the surface of the water, and darts 
along the ocean bed. We strongly reconunend our school-boy friends to possess 
themselves of her \o%."—Athenceum. 

* :^* For other Books by Harry Collingwood. see pages 21 and 23. 



■ Jlr. Feim stands in the foieinost rank of writers in this department." — Daily 

QuieksilveP: Or, A Boy with no Skid to liis Wheel. By 

Geor(;e Manville Fenn. With 10 page lUustrations by Frank 

Dadd. Ci'own 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s. 

" Qnicksiloer is little short of an inspiration. In it that prince of story-writers 
for boys— George ilanville Fenn— has surpassed liiniself. It is an ideal book for 
a boy's MhVAry."— Practical Teacher. 

Dick O' the Fens: A Romance of the Great East Swamp. By 

G-. Manville Fenn. With 12 page Illustrations by Frank Dadd. 

Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s. 

"We conscientiously believe that boys will find it capital reading. It is full 
of incident and mystery, and the mystery is kejjt up to the last mnmeiit. It is 
rich in effective local colouring; and it has a historical interest." — Tiines. 

Devon Boys: A Tale of the North Shore. By G. Manville 

Fenn. With 12 page Illustrations by Gordon Browne. Crown 

8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s. 

"An admirable story, as remarkable for the individuality of its young heroes 
as for the excellent descriptions of coast scenery and life in North Devon. It is 
one of the best books we have seen this season." —Atheitceuiii. 

The Golden Magnet: a Tale of the Land of the Incas. By 

G. Manville Fenn. Illustrated by 12 page Pictures by Gordon 

Browne. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s. 

"There could be no more welcome present for a boy. There is not a dull page 
in the book, and many will be read with breatliless interest. ' The Golden Mag- 
net' is. of course, the same one that attracted Raleigh and the heroes of West- 
icard Ho .'" — Journal of Education. 

In the King-'S Name: Or, The Cruise of the A'es^reZ. By 

G. Manville Fenn. Illustrated by 12 page Pictures by Gordon 

Browne. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6.s. 

" The best of all Mr. Fenn's productions in this field. It has the great quality 
of always ' moving on ', adventure following adventure in constant succession."— 
Daily News. 

Nat the Naturalist: A Boy's Adventures in tlie Eastern 

Seas. By G. Manville Fenn. With 8 page Pictures. Crown 8vo, 

cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s. 

"This sort of book encoinages independence of character, develops resource, 
and teaches a boy to keep his eyes open." — Saturday Review. 

Bunyip Land: The story of a Wild Journey in New Guinea. 

By G. M.\nville Fenn. With 6 page Illustrations by Gordon 

Browne. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 4s. 

" ;\Ir. Fenn deserves the thanks of everybody for Bunyip Land, and Ave may ven- 
ture to promise that a quiet week maybe reckoned on wliilst the youngsters have 
such fascinating literature provided for their evenings' amusement."— Spectato/-. 


^ — _ 


" Xo one cau find his way to tlie hearts of lads more readily tliau Mr. Fenn." — 

Sottiiii/ha III Guardian. 

BrOWnsmith's Boy: A Eomance in a Garden. By G. 
M.\>^viLLE Fenn. With 6 page Illustrations. Crown 8vo, "cloth 
elegant, 36-. 6d. 

" Mr. Fenii's books are among tlie best, if not altogether the best, of the stories 
for boys. Mr. Fenn is at his best in Brownsuiith's Buy."— Pictorial Woiid. 

For other Books by G. Manville Fenn, see page 22. 


Young" Travellers' Tales. By Ascott k. Hope. Witii 

li lUusti-ations by H. J. Draper. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6(/. 
"Possess a high value for instrnction as well as for entertainment His quiet, 
level humour bubbles up on every pa'^e." —Daily Chronicle. 

" E.xcitement and cheerful enjoyment run through the hook."— Book man. 

The Seven Wise Scholars. By Ascott e. Hope. With 

nearly 100 Illustrations by Gordon Browne. Cloth elegant, 5s. 

"As full of fun as a volume of Punch; with illustr.ations, more laughter- 
provoking tlian most we liave seen since Leech died. " — Sheffield Independent. 

Stories of Old Renown: Tale.s of Knights and Heroes. 

By A.SC0TT R Hope. With 100 Illustrations by Gordon Browne. 

Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6d. 
" A really fascinating book worthy of its telling title. There is, we venture to 
say, not a dull page in the book, not a story wlncli will not bear a second read- 
ing. " — Guardian. 

Under False Colours: a story from Two Girls' Lives. 
By Sarah Doudney. With 6 page Illustrations by G. G. Kil- 
BURNE. Crown Svo, cloth elegant, 4s. 

"Sarah Doudney has no superior as a writer of high-toned stories— jmre in 
style and original in conception ; but we have seen nothing from her pen equal 
in dramatic energy to this Ijook." — Christian Leader. 

"This is a charming story, abounding in delicate touches of sentiment and 
pathos. Its plot is skilfully contrived." — Scotsman. 

The Universe : OrThe infinitely Great and the Infinitely Little. 
A Sketch of Contrasts in Creation, and Marvels revealed and 
explained by Natural Science. By F. A. Pouchet, M.D. With 
272 Engravings on wood, of which 55 are full-page size, and 4 
Coloured Illustrations. Twelfth Edition, medium Svo, cloth ele- 
gant, gilt edges, 7s. 6r?.; also morocco antique, 16s. 

" We can honestly commend Professor Pouchet's book, whicli is admirably, as 
it is copiously illustratwl." — The Times. 

"Scarcely any book in French or in English is so likely to stimulate in the 
young an interest in the physical phenomena." — Fortnightly Beview. 




Fop Life and Liberty: A Story of Battle by Land and 

Sea. By Dr. Gordon 

STABLE.S, R.N. With S 

Illustrations by Syd- 
ney Paget, and a Map. 

When in 1861 war was de- 
clared in America between 
the North and South, the 
news greatly interested Os- 
mond Lloyd, who was at 
school in England. Beini; 
of an adventurous spirit, 
and having relations in the 
States, the lad ran away 
from home with his chum 
Kenneth Reid, and the two 
made their way to America 
in the Jifosr/uito. Here Os- 
mond joined the Southern 
army, while Kenneth entered 
the navy, and their various 
adventures in that great con- 
flict are vigorously set forth 
in this narrative. Osmond 
was in the army of the Poto- 
mac, took part in all the 
campaigns, and won praise 
for his valour from the famous 
general, "Stonewall" Jack- 
son. Reduced Illustration from, "To Greenland 

To Greenland and the Pole. By Gordon Stables, m.d. 

With S page Illustrations by G. C. Hindley, and a Map. Crown 

8vo, cloth elegaTit, olivine edges, 5s. 

" His Arctic explorers have the verisinu'litude of life. It is one of the books 
of the season, and one of the best ^Ir. .Stables has ever written." — Truth. 

Westward with Columbus. By Gordon Stables, m.d. 
With 8 page Illustrations by A. Pearse. Cloth elegant, 5s. 
" We must place Westward with Columbus among those books that all boys 
ought to read." — The Spectator. 

'Twixt School and C0lleg"e : a Tale of Self-reliance. By 

Gordon Stables, cm., m.d., r.n. With 8 page Illustrations by 

W. Parkinson. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edge.s, 5s. 

"One of the best of a prolific writer's bonks for boys, beiiiar full of practicnl 

instructions as to keeping pets, and inculcates in a way which a little recalls Miss 

Edgevvorth's 'Frank' the virtue of self-reliance." — Ath^nteum. 




Olaf the Glorious. By Robert Leighton. Witli 8 page 
Illustrations by Ralph Peacock, and a Map. Crown 8vo, cloth 
elegant, olivine edges, 5s. 
"Is as good as aiiythiiiy of the kind we have met with. Mr. Leighton more 
than holds his own witli Kider Haggard and Baring Goukl."— TAe Tiiiten. 

"Among the hooks Ijtst liked hy boys of the sturdy English type few will take 
ahigher\tlace than Olaf llie Glviious "—National Observer. 

The Wreck of "The Golden Fleece": TheStmyof a 

North Sea Fisher-boy. By Robert Leighton. With 8 page 
Illustrations by F. Brangwyn. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 5s. 
" This story should add considei'ably to Mr. Leighton's high reputation. Ex- 
cellent in every respect, it contains every variety "of incident. The plot is very 
cleverly devised, and the types of the North Sea sailors are capital." — The Times. 

The Pilots of Pomona: a story of the Orkney Islands. 
By Robert Leighton. With 8 page Illustrations by John Leigh- 
ton, and a Map. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s. 

" A story which is quite as good in its way as Treasure Islaiid, and is full of 
adventure of a stirring yet most natural kind. Although it is primarily a boys' 
book, it is a real godsend to the elderly reader." — Glasgow Ecening Times. 

The Thirsty Sword: a story of the Norse Invasion of 
Scotland (1262-63). By Robert liEiGHTON. With 8 page Illus- 
trations by A. Pearse. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 5.s. 
"This is one of the most fascinating stoiies for hoys that it has ever been our 
pleasure to read. From first to last the interest never flags. Boys will worship 
Kenric, who is a hero in every sense of the ■wovi\."—Schoohnaster. 


A Prisoner of War: a story of the Time of Nai)oleon 
Bonaparte. By G. Norway. With 6 page Illustrations liy Robt. 
Barnes, a.r.w.s. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. Qd. 
" More hairbreadth escapes from death by starvation, by ice, hy fighting, itc , 

were never before surmounted. . . . It is a fine yarn."— IVic Guardian. 

The Loss of John Humble: What Led to it, and AVliat 

Came of It. By G. Norway". With 8 page Illustrations by John 

Schonberg. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s. 

"This story will place the author at once in tlie front rank. It is i\i\\ of life 
and adventure. The interest of the story is sustained without a break from first 

A True Cornish Maid. By G. Norway. Wltli 6 page 
Illustrations by J. Finnejiore. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6d. 
''There is some excellent reading. . . . Mrs. Norway brings before the eyes 
of her readers the good Cornish folk, their speech, their manners, and their ways. 
.1 True Cornish Maid deserves to be popular ' - Atheiioeu'iii. 


With the Sea King's : a story of the Days of Lord Nelson. 

By F. H. Wjndek. With 6 pai,fe lUustratious by W. S. Stacey. 

Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 4.s\ 

"Just the l)ook to put into a boy's hands. Every chapter contains boardings, 
cuttings out, fighting pirates, escapes of tlirilHng audacity, and captures by corsairs, 
sufficient to turn the (juietest boys head. The story culminates in a vigorous 
account of the liattle of Trafalgar. Happy boys ! " — The Academy. 

Grettir the Outlaw: A Story of Iceland. By S. Baring- 
Gould. With 6 page Illustrations by M. Zeno Diemer, and a 
Coloured Map. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 4s. 

" Is the boys' book of its year That is, of course, as much as to say that it 
will do for men grown as well as juniors. It is told in simple, straightforward 
English, as all stories should be, and it has a freshness, a freedom, a sense of sun 
and wind and the open air, which make It irresistible."— iVattoMai Observer. 

Gold, Gold, in Cariboo : a story of Adventure in Britisli 
Columbia. By Clive Phillipps-Wolley. With 6 page Illustra- 
tions by^G. C. Hindley\ Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3.s. dd. 

" It Would be difficult to say too much in favour of Gold, (juld, in Cariboo. We 
have seldom read a more exciting tale of wild mining adventure in a singularly 
inaccessilile country. There is a capital plot, and the interest is sustained to the 
last page." —The Times. 

A Champion of the Faith: A Tale of Prince Hal and tlie 

Lollards. By J. INI. C.vllwell. With 6 page Illustrations by 

Herbert J. Dr.\per. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 4s. 

" Will not be less enjoyed than Mr. Heuty's books. Sir .Tohn Oldcastle's patlietic 
story, and the history of his brave young scjuire, will make eveiy lioy enjoy this 
lively story." — London Quarterly. 


Meg's Friend. By Alice Corkran. With 6 jiage Ulnstra- 

tions by Robert Fowler. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, S.v. Qd. 

" One of Miss Corkrans charming books for girls, narrated in that simple 
and picturesque style which marks the authoress as one of the first amongst 
writers for young people.'' — The Spectator. 

Marg^ery Merton's Girlhood. By Alice Corkran. With 

6 page Pictures by Gordon Browne. Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, .3.?. 6f/. 

"Another book for girls we can warmly commend. There is a delightful 
piquancy in the experiences and trials of a young English girl who studies 
painting in Paris." — Saturday Ueview. 

Down the Snow Stairs: Or, From Good-night to Good- 

inorning. By Alice Corkran. With 60 Illustrations by Gordon 

Br(>wne. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 3s. &d. 

"A gem of the first water, bearing upon every page the mark of genius. It is 
indeed a Little Pilgrim's Progress. "—C/u'/'»((V(ji Leader. 



Hallowe'en Ahoy! Or, Lost on the Crozet Islands. By 
Hugh St. Legeh. With 6 Illustrations by H. J. Draper. 
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 4s. 

This is the strange history of the derelict llallotve'en, in which is set 
forth : How she was found on tlie high-seas beyond the equator ; how it 
befell that there was only a ghost on board ; how the ghost was captured ; 
how the vessel was casst ashore on a desert island in the Southern Ocean ; 
how the crew, being Englishmen, took the disaster cheerily; and how at 
length, after many hardships and hairbreadth escapes, they floated their 
.stout craft, bringing her back safe again to old England. And in this 
wonderful tale there is such wealth of tine enchantment that it will warp 
the hungry school-boy from remembrance of his dinner. 

Sou'wester and Sword. By Hugh St. Leger. Witli 6 
page Illustrations by Hal Hurst. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 4.'?. 

"As racy a tale of life at sea and war adventure as we have met with for some 
time. . . . Altogether the sort of l)ook th;it boys will revel in." — Athenceum. 


Two Gallant Rebels: a story of theCireat struggle in La 
Vendee. By Edgar Pickering. With 6 Illustrations by W. H. 
OvEREND, Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6f/. 
These two rebels are two English youths who are shipwrecked and cast 
ashore in La Vendue, a province of France. Here they are rescued by the 
inhabitants, and in gratitude for this, assistance they join the Vendeans 
in their revolt against the French Republic. The two yo\ing fellows main- 
tain the English character for pluck in the various ambushes and battles 
in which they take part; and even when captured and condemned to the 
guillotine they contrive to escape by sheer reckless daring. 

In Press-Gang" Days. By Edgar Pickering. With 6 
Illustrations by W. S. Stacey. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. M. 

"It is of Marr^at we think as we read this delightful story; for it is not 
only a story of adventure with incidents well conceived and arranged, but the 
cliaracters are interesting and well-distinguished."— ^catfcH);/. 

An Old-Time Yarn: Wlieiein is set forth divers desperate 
mischances which befell Antliony Ingram and his shipmates in the 
West Indies and Mexico with Hawkins and Drake. ]'>y Edgar 
PicKEKiNG. Illustrated with G page Pictures drawn by Alfred 
Pearse. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 3.?. Qd. 
"And a very good yarn it is, with not a dull page from first to last. There is a 

flavour of Wei<t.ward Ho! in this attractive hoo^."— Educational lieuiew. 

Silas Verney: a Tale of the Time of Charles II. By Edgar 
Pickering. With 6 page Illustrations by Alfred Pearse. Crown 
8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6c/. 
" Altogether this is an excellent story for hoys." —Saturday Review. 



A Thane of WeSSeX : Being the story of the Great Viking 
Iviiid of S45. By Charles W. Whistler. With 6 Illustrations 
by W. H. Margetson. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. Qd. 

The story of young Heregar, a thane in the old kingdom of Wessex. 
Wherein is finely set forth, — how he was falsely accused, and unfairly out- 
lawed as a traitor; how in his wanderings he discovered the war-galleys 
of the Vikings, and carried the War-arrow; how he withstood the raidmg 
Danes at Bridgwater, and gathered the levies at Glastonbury; how he con- 
trived an ambush, and completely defeated the Vikings at Parret mouth ; 
and how, at length, he was inlawed again, and in reward of his valour made 
the King's Staudard-Bearer. That is the noble story of Heregar. 

His First Kangaroo: An Australian Story for Boys. By 
Arthur Ferres. With 6 Illustrations by Percy F. S. Spence. 
Crovirn 8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6d. 

This is a story of adventure on an Australian cattle-station. Dick 
Morrison accepts an iu\'itation to spend a holiday in the bush, and has a 
good time. A band of bush-rangers also make things lively, for on one 
occasion the station is "stuck up", while a young Scotsman is kidnapped 
and rescued with difficulty. The story is full of healthy out-of-dooi-s 
adventure, in fresh and attractive surroundings. 

Three Bright Girls: A story of Chance and Mischance. 
By Annie E. Armstrong. With 6 page Illustrations by W. Par- 
kinson. Crown Svo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6d. 
"Anionn; many good stones for girls this is undoubtedly one of the very best." 

— Teachers' Aid. 

A Very Odd Girl: or, Life at the Gabled Farm. By Annie 
E. Armstrong. Illustrated. Crown Svo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6rf. 

" The book is one we can heartily recommend, for it is not only bright and 
interesting, but also pure and healthy in tone and teaching."— rAe Lady. 

The Captured Cruiser: By C. J. Htne. Illastrated by 

Frank Beangwyn. Crown Svo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6c?. 

" The two lads and the two skippers are admirably drawn. Mr. Hyne has 
now secured a position in the first rank of writers of fiction for hoys."— Spectator. 

Afloat at Last : a Sailor Boy's Log of his Life at Sea. By 
John C. Hutchkson. Crown Svo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6c?. 

"As healthy and breezy a book as one could wish to put into the hands of 
a boy." — Academy. 

Picked up at Sea: Or, The Gold Miners of Minturne Creek. 
By J. C. Hutcheson. With 6 page Pictures. Cloth extra, 3s. Qd. 

Brother and Sister: Or, The Trials of the Moore Family. 
By Elizabeth J. Lysaght. Crown Svo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6c?. 


The Search for the Talisman: A story of Labrador. 

By Henky Fkith. With (J pa.^e Illustrations by J. Schonberg. 

Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. Gd. 

"Mr. Frith's volume will be among those most read ami liigliest valued. The 
adventures among seals, whales, and icebergs in Lalnador will delight many a 
young reader."— Afii Mull Gazette. 

Reefer and Rifleman: a Tale of tlie Two Services. By 
Lieut. -C'ol. Percy -Gkoves. With 6 page Illustrations by John 
ScHoNBERG. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. Qd. 
"A good, old-fashioned, amphibious story of oui' tightiug with the Fremlimcn in 

tlie beginning of our century, with a fair sprinliling of fiui and frolic."— '/'/jxcv. 

Dora : Or, A Girl without a Home. By Mrs. R. H. Read. With 
6 page Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6(/. 
"It is no slight thing, in an age of ruVjbish, to get a story so pure and healthy 
as this." — 2'he Academy. 

Storied Holidays: a Cycle of Red-letter Days. By E. S. 

Bkooks. With VI page Illustrations by Howard Pvle. Crown 

8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6rf. 
" It is a downright good boolc for a .senior boy, and is eminently readable from 
first to last." — Sehoobnayter. 

ChivalriC Days: stories of Courtesy and Courage iu the 

Olden Times. By E. S. Brooks. With 20 Illustrations by 

Gordon Browne and other Artists. Crown 8 vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6f/. 

" We have seldom come across a prettier collection of tales. These charming 

stones of boys and girls of olden days are no mere fictitious or imaginary sketches, 

but are real and actual records of their sayings and ihywgs."^ Literary World. 

Historic Boys: Their Endeavours, their Achievements, and 

their Times. By E. S. Brooks. With 12 page Illustrations by 

R. B. Birch and John Schonberg. Crown 8vo, cloth e.xtra, 3s. (jd. 

"A wholesome book, manly in tone, its character sketches enlivened by brisk 

dialogue and high-class illustrations; altogether one tliat should incite boys to 

further acquaintance with those rulers of men whose careers are nairated. We 

advise teachers to put it on their list of prizes." — Kiioioledge. 

Dr. Jolliffe'S Boys: a Tale of Weston School. By Lewis 

Hough. With 6 page Pictures. Crown Svo, cloth extra, 3.f. (id. 

"Young people who appreciate 7'om Byovra'a School daf/x will find this story a 
worthy companion to that fascinating book. There is the same maidiness of tone, 
trutbiulness of outline, avoidance of exaggeration and caricature, and healthy 
morality as characterized the masterpiece of Mr. Hughes."— Newcastle Jourwd. 

The Bubbling" Teapot. A Wonder Story. By Mrs. L. W. 

Ch.\.mi'NEy. With 12 page Pictures by Walter SATTERWirE. 

Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3,s. 6(/. 
"Very literally a 'wonder story', and a wild and fanciful one. Nevertheless 
it is made realistic enough, and there is a good ileal of infurmation to be gained 
from it." — The Tiinex. 


Thorndyke Manor: a Tale of Jacobite Times. By Mary 

(_'. KowsELL. With 6 payo Illustrations by L. Leslie Brooke. 

Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 3a'. 6d. 

"Miss RoHsell has never wiitten a more attractive book than Tlwrndijke 
Manor." — Belfast Xeivs- Letter. 

TraitOP op PatPiot? a Tale of the Eye-House Plot. By 

Mary C. Rowsei.l. Illustrated. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6(/. 

'• Here the Rye-Huiise Plot serves as the groundworlf for a ronuuitio love 
episode, whose true char.acters are lifelike beings."— G'yo^Aic. 


Beautifully Illustrated and Handsonielv Bound. 

Or, A Boy's Adventures iu Peisia. 

Hussein the Hostag'e 

By G. Norway. With 

6 page Illustrations by 

John Schonberg. Neio 

Edition. Crown 8vo, 

cloth elegant, 3*-. 

"Hussein the Hostage is full 
of originality and vigour. Tlie 
characters are lifelilie, there is 
plenty of stirring iiici<lent, the 
interest is sustained through- 
out, and every boy will enjoy 
following tlie fortunes of the 
hero." — Journal of Education. 

Cousin Geoffpey 

and L By Caroline 
ArsTix. With 6 page 
Illustrations by W. 
Parkinson. Nciv Edi- 
tion. Crown Svo, cloth 
extra, 3s. 

" Miss Austin's story is bright, 
clever, and well developed." — 

Saturday Reriew. 

The Congo Roveps: 

A Story of the Slave 
Sijuadron. By Harry 


page Illustrations by J. 

Schonberg. Crown Svo, clotli elegant, 3s. 

"Xo better sea story has lately been written than the Conyo Hovers. It 
original as any boy could desire." — Morning Post. 

Reduced llluatrution f 



Under Hatches : or, Ned Woodthorpe's Adventures. By F, 

Frankfort Moore. With 6 page Illustrations by A. Fokestier. 

Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. 

"The story as a story is one that will just suit boys all the world over. The 
characters are well tlrawu and consistent; Patsy, the Irish steward, will be found 
especially amusing." — Schoolmaster. 

MenhardOC: a story of Cornisli Nets and ISlines. By G. 

Manville Fenn. 'With 6 page Illustrations by C. J. Staniland, 

E.I. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 2>s. 

"They are real living boys, with tlieir virtues and faults. The Cornish fisher- 
men are drawn from life, and stand out from the jKijues in their jerseys and 
sea-boots all sprinkled with silvery pilch;ud scales."— 5/>cc«((ftiy. 

YuSSUf the Guide: or, Tlie Moinitain Bandits. A Story of 

Strange Adventure in Asia Minor. By G. Manville Fknn. With 

6 page Illustrations by J. Schonbekg. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 'is. 

"Told witli such real freshness and vigour that the reader feels he is actually 
one of the party, sharing in the fun and facing tlie dangers." — Pall Mall Gazette. 

Robinson Crusoe. with lOO illustrations by Gordon 

Browne. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, Ss. 

"One of the best issues, if uot absolutely the best, of Defoe's work which has 
ever appeared."— jTAc Standard. 

Gulliver's Travels. With lOO illustrations by Gordon 

Browne. Crown 8 vo, cloth extra, 3s. 

" Mr. Gordon Browne is, to my thinking, inconip;u'ably the most artistic, 
spirited, and brilliant of our illustrators of books for boys, and one of the most 
humorous also, as his illustrations of 'Gulliver' amply testify."— jT/'itWt. 

Patience Wins: or, War in the Works. By George Man- 
ville Fenn. With 6 page Illustrations. Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 

" Mr. Fenn has never hit upon a happier plan than in writing this story of 
Yorkshire factory life. The whole book is all aglow with life." — Pall Mall Gazette. 

Mother Carey's Chicken: Her Voyage to the Unknown 

Isle. By G. Manville Fenn. With 6 page Illustrations by A. 

FoRESTlHR. Crown Svo, cloth e.xtra, 3s. 

" l'ndoul)tedly one of the best Mr Fenn has written. Tlie incidents are of 
tlniUini; interest, while the characters are drawn with a cai'e ajid completeness 
rarely found in a boy's book. " — Literary World. 

The Wig"wam and the War-path: stories of the Red 

Indians. By Ascott B. Hope. With 6 page Illustrations. Crown 

8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. 

"Ts notably good It gives a very vivid picture of life among the Indians, 
which will delight the heart of many a schoolboy." — Spectator. 



The Missing" Merchantman. By Harby Collingwood. 

With 6 page Illustrations by W. H. OvEREND. Cloth extra, 3s. 

" One of tlie author's best sea stories, 'i'lie hero is as lieroic as any boy could 
desire, and the eudiiig is extremely happy." — British Weekly. 

The Rover's Secret : A Tale of the Pirate Cays and Lagoons 

of Cuba. By Harry Collingwood. With 6 page Illustrations by 

W. C. Symons. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, os. 

" The Rover's Secret is by far the best sea story we have read for years, and is 
certain to give unalloyed pleasure to hoys "—Saturday Review. 

Perseverance Island: or, The Robinson Crusoe. of the 19th 

Century. By Douglas Frazar. With 6 page Illustrations. 

Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 

"This is an interestinrc story, written with studied simplicity of style, much in 
Defoe's yein of apparent sincerity and scrupulous veracity; while for practical 
iiistiiiction it is even ))etter than Robinson Crusoe." — Illustrated London News. 

Girl Neig'hbOUrS : or, The Old Fashion and the New. By 

Sakah Tytlek. With 6 page Illustrations by C. T. Garland. 

Crown Svo, cloth elegant, 3s. 

" One of the most effective and quietly humorous of iliss Sarah Tytler's stories. 
U is very healthy, very agreeable, and very well written." — The Spectator. 


Illustrated bv eminent Artists. In crown 8vo, cloth eleaaut. 

A Musical Genius. By the Author of the "Two Dorothys". 
Illustrated by John H. Bacon. 

Hugo Ricardo has a genius for the violin, and is adopted by a wealthy 
musical amateur who has discovered his special gift. The lad studies 
hfn-d, and fulfils the highest expectations of his new friend. But he never 
quite forgets his humble, unselfish brother the conjurer ; and when he is 
called upon to make choice between affection for his brother and a vvealthj" 
home, he quickly chooses the former. The charm of this tale is in its 
naturalness, and in the engaging self-sacrifice of the two noble brothers. 

For the Sake of a Friend : A story of School Life. By 
Margaret Parker. Illustrated by G. Demain Hammond. 
Stories of school life are common enough, but this tale of a girls' school 
in Melbourne is quite new. The vivacity of these Australian girls is not 
less attractive than the home-like brightness and freedom of the school. 
The heroine, Susie Snow, and her friend, Trixie Beresford, are the sweetest 
and cleverest of girls, and although there are jealousie.*, mistake.^, and 
misunderstandings among tlie pupils at Stormont House, yet all comes 
right in the end. 

21 BLACKIE ct- ^'O.V'^' WUli.-i FOR YOUSG J'EOI'LE. 


Under the Black Eag'le. By Andrkw Hilliaud. illus- 
trated liy W. 15i)L('Hi;u. 

Ernest Wentworth is an English lad resident in Russia, and bis great 
chum is a student called Gregorieff. As this student has secret dealings 
with Nihilists, the two friends become suspected of plots, and the final 
result is that both are apprehended, and exiled to Siberia. On the journey 
they contrive to leap from the convict-steamer, swim ashore in the <lark- 
ness, escape from their pursuers, and make their way across " the Roof of 
the World " into Northern India. 

The Secret of the Australian Desert. By Ernest 

Favenc. With 4 Illustratinns by Percy ¥. S. Spence. 
Three white men, and a blackfellow called Billy Buttons, start on an 
expedition into the great Australian desert. Strange, uncanny, and ter- 
rible are their e.Kperiences in that vast wilderness. They meet with the 
cannibal Wai lattas ; find a mysterious burning mountain ; discover traces 
of the lost explorer. Dr. Leichhardt; and only arrive back at their cattle- 
station after long and grievous wandering in the waterless desert. The 
vivid actuality of this enthralling narrative is due to the fact that the 
author has taken the material from his own thrilling experiences. 

A Little Handful. By Harriet J. Scripps. 

"He is a real type of a hoy. "—The Schoolviantei: 

A Golden Ag"e : A story of Four Meiry ( .'liildreii. By Ismav 
Tmohn. Illustrated by (ioRDON Brownk. 
'■ ( iiiulit to have a i)lace of honour on the nursery shelf."— 77ie Athemeviii. 

A RoUg-h Road: or, How the Boy Made a Man* of Himself. 
By Mrs. G-. Linn^us Banks. 
" Mrs. Banks has not written a better book than A Itovgh Road."— Spectator. 

The Two Dorothys. By Mrs. Herbert Martin. 

■■ A book tliat will inten-st and please all girls." — The Lady. 

Penelope and the Others. By Amy Walton. 

•'This is a charniin;^ book for chilihen. Miss Walton proves herself a perfect 
iiilept in understanib'ng of school-room joys and sorrows." — Christian Leader. 

A Cruise in ClOUdland. By Henry Frith. 

" ,\ tliinduuhly intcrestiii;.; story." — St. Janu'n's Gazette. 

Marian and Dorothy. By Anme E. Armstrong. 

• riiis is distiiu ti\ fly a book for girls. A bright wholesome story."— Acadeviy. 

StimSOn's Reef: a Tale of Adventure. By C. J. Hyne. 

•■ It may almost vie with Mr. E L. Stevenson's Treasure Island."— Gnardian. 

Gladys Anstruther. By Louisa Thompson. 

"It is a clever book: iiovil ami striking in the liighest degree "—S(;/(ot<h»i«<»-ei,'«. 



Thing's Will Take a Turn. By Beatrice Hauradk.v 
With 44 Illtistniticiis 
by John H. Baoon. 
Crown 8vo, cloth ele- 
gant, 2s. 6f/. 

"Perhaps the most hiil- 
liaiit is TlunijK Will Take n 
Tiu-ii. ... A tale of humble 
child life in London. It 
is a delightful blending "\ 
comedy and tragedy, with an 
excellent plot." — The Times. 

The Whispering" 

Winds, and the 

Tale,s that they Tol.l. 
By Maky H. Deben- 
HAM. With 25 Illus- 
ti'ation.s by Paul 
Hardy. Crown 8v-i>. 
cloth elegant, Is. 6il. 

"We wish the winds woubl 
tell us stories like these. It 
would be worth while toclimlj 
Primrose Hill, or even to the 
giddy heights of Hampstead 
Heath in a bitter east wind, 
if we could only be sure of 
hearing such a sweet, sad, 
tender, and stirring story as 
that of Hilda Brave Heart, or 
even one that was half so 
good." — ..•lc'rt(/e//(i/. Fruiii ■■ Tliiiiijn ivill Talc a Tmn". (Reduced) 

Hal Hung-erford. By J. R. Hutchin.son, b.a. 

"Altogether, Hal Hungerford is a distinct literary success."— Spectator. 

The Secret of the Old House. By e. Everetx-Green. 

■' Tim, the little Jacobite, is a charming ciea.t\r)n."— Academy. 

The Golden Weathercock. By Julia Goddard. 

'■ A cleverly conceived quaint story, ingeniously wv'Men."— Saturday Review. 

White Lilac: or, The Queen of the May. By Amy Waltox. 
'■ Every rural parish ought to add White Lilac to its library. "—^4 c(((/t'//(;/. 

Miriam's Ambition. By Evelyn Everett-Green. 

"Miss Green's children are real British boys and girU."- Liverpod Merciir'j. 

The Brig "Audacious". ByALANCuLE. 

"Fresh and wholesome as a breath of sea a.\\:"— Court Journal. 



The Saucy May. By Henry Frith. 

" Mr. Fritli yives a new picture of life on tlie ocean wave." — Sheffield Independent. 

Jasper's Conquest. By Elizabeth J. Ltsaght. 

" One of the best boys' Ijooks of tlie season." — Schoolmaster. 

Little Lady Clare. By Evelyn Everett-Greek. 

" in itsquaintness of Mrs. Ewing's delightful tales." — LUei: World. 

The Eversley Secrets. By Evelyn Everett-Green. 

" Roy Eversley is a very tcmoliing picture of high principle." — Giutrdion. 

The Hermit Hunter of the Wilds. By G. Stables, r.n. 

■' Will LTladden the heart of many a bright boy." — Methodist Recorder. 

Sturdy and Strong. By G. A. Henty. 

" A her(j who stands as a j;()od instanceof chivalry in domestic life. " — The Empire. 

Gutta Percha Willie. By George Mac Donald. 

'■ Get it for your boys and girls to read for themselves." — Practical Teacher. 

The War of the Axe : Or, Adventure.^ in South Africa. By 
J. Pkkcy-Gkoves. 
•■'rile story is well and Ijrilliantly U>h\."—Literarij World. 

The Lads of Little Clayton. By e. Stead. 

•■ A capital book for boys." — Sclioolinaster 

Ten Boys wlio lived on the Road from Long Ago to Now. 
13y Jane Andrews. With 20 Ilhistrations. 
" The idea is a very happy one, and admirably carried out."— Practical Teacher. 

A Waif of the Sea: Or,The Lost Found. By Kate Wood. 
" Written with tenderness and grace." — Morniny Advertiser. 

Winnie's Secret. By Kate Wood. 

" One of the best story-books we have read." — Schoolmaster. 

Miss WillOWburn'S Offer. By Sarah Doudney. 

" Patience Willowburn is one of Miss Doudney's best cveaiions."— Spectator. 

A Garland for Girls. By Louisa M. Alcott. 

" These little tales are the beau ideal of girls' stories."— C/i?'iSiMi)i World. 

Hetty Gray: Or, Nobody's Bairn. By Rosa Mulholland. 

" Hetty is a delightful creature— piquant, tender, and true." — World. 

Brothers in Arms: A story of the Cmsades. By F. Bay- 

"Sure to prove interesting to young people of both sexes." — Guardian. 

Miss Fenwick's Failures. By Esme Stuart. 

"A girl true to real life, who will put no nonsense into young heads." — Graphic. 

Gytha's Message. By Emma Leslie. 
" This is the sort of book that all girls likti."— Journal oj Education. 




By Skelton Kuppord. Illus- 

Hammond's Hard Lines 

trated by Harold 

" The story is very clever 
and provocative of laughter, ' 
— Standard. 

" It is just what a boy woulil 
choose if the selection of a 
story-book is left in his own 
hand." — School Guardian. 

DulcieKing": AStoiy 

for Girls. By M. 

Corbet - Seymour. 

Illustrated by Gkr- 

TRUDE D. H.\mmon:). 

"An extremely graceful, 
well-told taleo: domestic life. 
. . . The iieruine, Dulcie, is a 
charming person, and worthy 
of the good fortune which she 
causes and shares." — Guar- 

Hug-h Herbert's In- 
heritance. By 

Caroline Austin. 
With 4 page Illus- 
trations by C. T. 

"Will please by its sinipli- Reduced Illustration from " HaminoiuVs Hard Lines''. 
City, its tenderness, and its 
healthy interesting motive. It is admirably written." — Scotsman. 

Nicola: The Career of a Girl Musician. By M. Corbet-Sey- 
mour. Illustrated by Gertrude D. Hammond. 

Jack O' Lanthorn : a Tale of Adventure. By Henry Frith. 

My Mistress the Queen. By M. A. Paull. 
The Stories of Wasa and Menzikoff. 
Stories of the Sea in Former Days. 
Tales of Captivity and Exile. 
Famous Discoveries by Sea and Land. 
Stirring" Events of History. 
Adventures in Field, Flood, and Forest 

"It woiilil lie (liftiL-iilt to place in the hands of young people books which 
combine interest and instruction in a higher degree." — Maticliester Courier. 



Illustrated by eiuiuent Artists. In crowu 8vo, cloth elegant. 


In the Days of Drake. Being the Adventures of Humphrey 
Salktld. By J. S. Flktcher. With Illustrations by W. S. Stacey. 

Wilful Joyce. By W. L. Rooper. Illustrated by Harold 

Proud Miss Sydney. By Gekaldine Mockler. illustrated 
liy G. De.maix HamjkiN]). 

The Girleen. By Edith Johnstone. Illustrated by Paul 

The Organist's Baby. By Kathleen Knox. 

School-Days in France. By An Old Girl. 

The Ravensworth Scholarship: A High School story 

for Girls. By Mrs. Henhv G-larke. 

Queen of the Daffodils : a story of High School Life. By 
Leslie Laing. 

Raff's Ranche: A story of Adventure among Gow-boys and 
Indians. By F. M. Holjies. 

An Unexpected Hero. By Eliz. j. Lysaght. 

The Bushrang"er's Secret. By Mrs. Henry Glahke, m.a. 

The White Squall. By John C. Hutcheson. 

The Wreck of the "Nancy Bell". By J. C. Hutcheson. 

The Lonely Pyramid. By J. H. A^^oxall. 

Bab: or, TJie Triumph of Unselfishness. By Ismay Thorn. 
Brave and True, and other stories. By Gregson Gow. 
The Lig'ht Princess. By George Mac Donald. 

Nutbrown Rog'er and I. By J. H. Yoxall. 
Sam Silvan's Sacrifice. By .Tesse Colman. 

Insect Ways on Summer Days in Garden, Forest, Field, 
and Stream, liv .Tennett Humphreys. With 70 Illustrations. 

Susan. By Amy Walton. 

A Pair of Clog's. By Amy Walton. 

The Hawthorns. By Amy Walton. 

Dorothy's Dilemma. i!y Caroline Austin. 

Ur.ACKIE d- soys books for young I'EOl'LK. 29 


Marie's Home. lU- Caroline Austin. 

A Warrior King-. By J. Evelyn. 

Aboard the "Atalanta". By Henry Frith. 

The Penang' Pirate. By John c. Hutcheson. 

Teddy: The story of a " Little Pickle ". By John V. Hutcheson. 

A Rash Promise. By Cecilia Selby Lowndes. 

Linda and the Boys. By Cecilia Selby Lowndes. 

Swiss Stories for Children. From the German of Madam 
Johanna Spyri. By Lucy Wheelock. 

The Squire's Grandson. By J. M. Callwell. 

Mag-na Charta Stories. Edited by Arthur Gilman, a.m. 

The Wing's of Courag-e; and The Cloud - Spinner. 
Translated from tlie French df (rEORGE Sand, by Mrs. Corkran. 

Chirp and Chatter: Or, Lessons from Field and Tree. 
By Alice Banks. With 54 Illustrations by Gordon Browne. 

Four Little Mischiefs. By Eosa Mulholland. 

New Lig-ht throug"h Old Windows. By Gregson Gow. 

Little Tottie, and Two Other Storie.s. By Thomas Archer. 
Naug-hty Miss Bunny. By Clara Mulholland. 
Adventures of Mrs. Wishing"-tO-be. By Alice Corkran. 

The Joyous Story of Toto. By Laura e. Eichards. 

Our Dolly : Her Words and Ways. By Mrs. E. H. Eead. 
Fairy Fancy : What she Heard and Saw. By Mrs. Eead. 


W^ith Illustrations, hi crown 8vo, cloth elegant. 


The Little Girl from Next Door. By Geraldine Mockler. 

Uncle Jem's Stella. By Author of the " Two Dorothys ". 
The Ball of Fortune, By C. Pearse. Neiv and Cheaper Edition. 
The Family Failing". By Darley Dale. New and Cheaiwr Edition. 
Warner's Chase: Or, The Gentle Heart. By Annie S. Swan. 

New Edition, 
Climbing the Hill. By Annie S. Swan. New Edition. 
Into the Haven. By Annie S. Swan. 




Olive and Robin : or, A Jouiney to 
Xduliere. By the authoi' of "The 
I »o Dorotli.vs". 

Mona's Trust: A Story for Girls. 


1"?^'--^— ^' 

IReduced Specimen of the Illustrations.'] 
Frnm "Pleasures and Pranlrs". 

Little Jimmy: A Story of Adventure. 
I'.y Kev D. RiCE-JoNES. m.a. 

Pleasures and Pranks. By Isa- 
bella Peauson. 

In a Stranger's Garden : A Story 
for Boys and Girls. By CONSTANCE 


A Soldier's Son: The Stoi7 of a Boy 
wliu .Succeeded. By Annette Lys- 


Mischief and Merry-making. By 
Isabella 1'earsun. 

Littlebourne Lock. By F. Batford 

Wild Meg and Wee Dickie. By 

Maky K KuJ'ES. 
Grannie. By Elizabeth J. Lysaght. 
The Seed She Sowed. By Emma 


Unlucky: A Frnsment of a 
Girl s Life. By CAROLINE 


Everybody's Business:Or,A 

Fiiend in >'eed. By Ismay 


Tales of Daring and Dan- 
ger. By G. A Henty. 

The Seven Golden K^eys. By 


The Story of a Queen. By 


Edwy : Or, Was he a Coward? 
By Annette Lyster. 

The Battlefield Treasure. 

By E. Bayfokii II ai:rison. 

Joans Adventures at the 
North Pole. By Alice 


Filled with Gold. By J. Per- 


Our General : A Story for 

Aunt Hesba's Charge. By 

Elizabeth J. Lysaght. 

By Order of Queen Maude: 

A story of Hume Life. By 
Louisa Crow. 

The Late Miss Hollingford. 

By KosA jMulhiilland. 

OurFrank By A jiy Walton. 

A Terrible Coward. By 

G. Manville Eenn. 

Yarns on the Beach. By G. A. 

Tom Finch's Monkey. By J. C. 


Miss Grantley.'s Girls, and the stories 
she Told Tlieni. By Tnos. AucHER. 

The Pedlar and his Dog. By Mary 
C. Rowsell. 

Town Mice in the Country. By 

M E. Francis. 

Phil and his Father. By Ismay 


Prim's Story. By L. E, Tiddeman. 




Down and Up Again. By Gregson 
Madge's Mistake. By Annie E. 


The Troubles and Triumphs of 
Little Tim. By Gregson Guw. 

The Happy Lad: A .Story of rea!;ai\t 
Lilt 111 .v..iw..y. By B. Bjounson. 

A Box of Stories. PHcked fui- Yciuii<; 
K.ilk l)\ HuKACE Happyman. 

The Patriot Martyr, ami other \ar- 
nitives uf Female Heroism. 


In Crown 8\'o. Illustrated. Clotli extra, l.«. did. each. 

The Cruise of the Midge. M. Scott. 
Lives and Voyages of Drake and 

Edgeworth's Moral Tales. 
Marryat's The Settlers in Canada 
Michael Scott's Tom Cringle's Log. 
White's Natural History of Sel- 

Waterton's Wanderings in S. 

Anson's Voyage Round the World. 
Autobiography of Franklin. 
Lamb's Tales from Shakspeare. 
Southey's Life of Nelson. 
Miss Mitford's Our Village. 

Tw:o Years Before the Mast. 

Marryat's Children of the New 

Scott's The Talisman. 

The Basket of Flowers. 

Marryat's Masterman Ready. 

Alcott's Little V/omen. 

Cooper's Deerslayer. 

The Lamplighter. By Miss Cum- 

Cooper's Pathfinder. 

The Vicar of Wakefield. 

Plutarch's Lives of Greek Heroes. 

Poe's Tales of Romance and Fan- 

Also a large selection of Reuards at a .^hilling, Ninepence, Sixpence., 
and Fourpence. A complete list viU he sent post free on appli- 
cation to the Publishers. 

The Best Book for Children. 

Laug-h and Learn: The Easiest Beok of Nursery 

Lessons and Nursery (xames. By Jennictt Humphreys. 

Profusely lUnstrated. S'|nare 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. &d. 

"One of the liest books of the kind iniafrinahle, full of practical teach- 
ing in wnnl and pictiue, and helping; the little ones pleasantly along a 
right royal road to learning."— G'cap^ic. 

BLACKIE & SON, Limited, 50 OLD BAILEY, E.G. 

rir. ACLAND says: — 

"There ought to be in connection with every elementary school a 
good library, in which you can lend children the best books which 
are available to the richest children in the country " 


Under the above title the publishers liave arranged to issue, for 
School Libraries and tlie Home Circle, a selection of the best and most 
interesting books in the English language. The Library will include 
lives of heroes, ancient and modern, records of travel and adventure by 
sea and land, fiction of the highest class, historical romances, books of 
natural history, and tales of domestic life. 

The greatest cai'e will be devoted to the get-up of the Library. The 
volumes will be clearly printed on good paper, and the binding made 
specially durable, to withstand the wear and tear to which well-circu- 
lated books are necessarily subjected. 

Ill ir<nvii S~.'0 z'olnmes. Strongly bound in uuperial cloth. Price is. 4ii. each. 

Dana's Two Years before the Mast. 

Southey's Life of Nelson. 

Waterton'sWanderings in S.America. 

Anson's Voyage Round the World. 

Lamb's Tales from Shakspeare. 

A utobiographyof Benjamin Franklin. 

Marryat's Children of the New Forest. 

Miss Mitford's Our Village. 

Scott's Talisman. 

The Basket of Flowers. 

Marryat's Masterman Ready. 

Alcott's Little Women. 

Cooper's Deerslayer. 

Parry's Third Voyage. 

Dickens' Old Curiosity Shop. 2 vols 

Plutarch's Lives of Greek Heroes. 

The Lamplighter. l!y Miss Cummins. 

Cooper's Pathfinder. 

The Vicar of Wakefield. 

White's Natural History of Selborne. 

Scott's Ivanhoe. 2 vols. 

Michael Scott's Tom Cringle's Log. 

Irving's Conquest of Granada. 2 vols. 

Lives of Drake and Cavendish. 

Michael Scott's Cruise of the Midge 

Edgeworth's Moral Tales. 

Passages in the Lifeof a Galley-Slave 

The Snowstorm. By Mrs. (lore. 

Life of Dampier. 

Marryat's The Settlers in Canadp. 

To he foUo^ved hy a neiu volume on tlie first of each month. 

We feel sure that they will form a collection which boys and girls alike, 
but especially the former, will highly prize; for whilst they contain interest- 
ing, and at times very e.xciting reading, the tone throughout is of that 
vigorous, stirring kind which is always appreciated by the young."— 
Sheffield Independent. 

Detailed Prospectns and Press Opinions ivill be sent post free on Application. 

BLACKIE & SON, Limited, 50 OLD BAILEY, E.C.